


Walking Through Darkness

by thelilacfield



Category: Glee
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Vampire, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-15
Updated: 2014-10-15
Packaged: 2018-02-21 06:37:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 42,768
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2458442
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thelilacfield/pseuds/thelilacfield
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“This is the city that never sleeps, Kurt. You’d be surprised at the people you run into in the dark alleys. My kind.” ~ Kurt was always fascinated by vampires, but he never expected that he would get to meet one. Or become a creature of the darkness.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Walking Through Darkness

**Rating:**  NC-17

**Pairings:**  Kurt/Blaine (endgame), Kurt/Cody, brief Kurt/Adam, brief Kurt/Elliott

**Word Count:**  42740

**Warnings/Kinks:**  Major character death (not Kurt or Blaine), murder, suicidal thoughts, kidnapping, imprisonment, forced dependency, mind control, mind manipulation, non-consensual sexual acts, violence, abusive relationship, discrimination, medical experimentation, overtones of D/s in a relationship, bloodplay.

**A/N:**  Thank you so much to my dynamite beta, [cakerbee](http://tmblr.co/mxqNYRZRkKGXAB9VKs7031Q), who was a dream to work with and made this fic into something I'd never imagined when I originally planned it out.  And to my artist, [hopelesslydevotedgleek](http://tmblr.co/mSUlAwW0-bja3t50DqaphMw), I am utterly grateful for someone who was completely willing to work with me and help to bring a personal favourite scene from the fic to life.  Any questions about the warnings or content can be put to my tumblr at  **chriscolfuck**. **  
**

When he allows a man he's barely met into his room, closing the curtain behind them in a clear signal that this is going to go further, Kurt wonders momentarily what the hell he's doing. Even through the haze of part-alcohol part-lust, it doesn't seem right for him to invite someone he's only just met into his heart like this, to let them see a part of him he keeps safe. But when Cody's arms wrap around him and his breath tickles against Kurt's neck, he's swept up again by the headiness of the situation and pulls him across the room to the bed.

By the time his shirt is somewhere on the floor, literally torn off him, scattering buttons, Kurt's head is swimming and he feels like he can't breathe with the heat settling over his skin. It's so much that he feels dizzy, and it's barely anything, really, just kissing. But Cody's lips feel so nice skating down his neck, seeking out all his most sensitive spots, and he shifts eagerly towards that searching mouth.

At first, he thinks nothing of it when he feels the scrape of teeth against his skin. It makes him eager, makes his head swim a little more, makes him want the marks - he's always been a sucker for hickies. But then the scrape turns sharper, and he tries to move away but Cody's heavy, strong body blocks him in and he cries out when teeth dig into his neck. No, not teeth, much sharper. Almost like  _fangs_.

The buoyancy of too much to drink and the want heating his blood drains out of him, replaced by paralysing fear, and he tries to struggle, held down while Cody takes something from him, he can feel it leaving him. His eyelids flutter and his heart pounds, and when Cody pulls away his eyes are dark and his lips are smeared red. It's blood.  _Kurt's_  blood.

"What the  _hell_?" Kurt snaps, pushing Cody off him and reaching up to feel the two punctures in his neck. His fingers come away smeared scarlet, and he shudders at the sight. "You psycho, did you just  _bite_  me?" Then a jolt of agony runs down his spine, clenching like a fist around his chest, and he lurches down onto the bed, wailing and writhing.

"Keep it down in there!" Santana yells from the living room, and when Kurt tries to get up to get their help, or reach his phone and call an ambulance and the  _police_ , because someone bit him and  _drank_  his  _blood_ , he collapses straight onto the floor and screams as the pain clenches around his chest. "Kurt! I just said,  _keep it down_!"

Cody bends down to Kurt on the floor, suspenders in his hands, and hurriedly wraps them around Kurt's wrists and ankles, keeping him still even if the agony wracking his body would allow him to move. "I am so sorry about this," he says, his hands gentle as he ties the knots. "I saw your suffering. You're an open book. And this will help you, it can make you stronger, I can help you forget about all the hurt you've gone through."

"What did you do to me?" Kurt rasps out, breath shallow as his blood flows hot, burning him from the inside out.

"This is the city that never sleeps, Kurt," Cody says, leaning over him and running a hand down Kurt's cheek, his eyes going dark when Kurt tries to twist away from him. "You'd be surprised at the people you run into in the dark alleys. My kind." His eyes glitter as he whispers, "Vampires. What you will become. I can make you strong, and then you can have forever to forget your pain. You'll be with me, and I can help your mind put away those thoughts of your terrible past." He pulls scraps of fabric from his sack and balls them into a makeshift gag, forcing it into Kurt's mouth. Then he stands, leaving Kurt lying on the ground, and says, "You'll have changed before morning, and you'll be able to break out of that by yourself. Wait for my call. I'll tell them you're sleeping."

Kurt's eyes roll back in his head as another wave of agony shoots through him, clenching his teeth so he won't cry out. His chest burns like he's run a marathon, making it hard to breathe, and he can feel his heartbeat getting slower and slower as he changes. The fear clenches at his chest, cold and cloying, and the pain crests and crests, making it harder to breathe and see and live.

Lying there, tied up and forced into a life he never wanted, he wonders what people think of when they change. Not everyone wants to be changed, that much is clear. Some ask for it, because they hunger for the chance to live forever, or because they think it romantic to join a lover in the darkness. But most don't. He knows the stories, the people led into dark alleys and changed, the people enchanted by the powers of mind control.  _Mind control_. No wonder there wasn't a thought of Blaine in his mind, not even on the fringes. No wonder he sometimes found himself wondering why he was doing this, why he found it so easy, why he was drinking so much in the first place.

God, it's so  _violating_ , lying there and realising that he's been controlled. That first glimpse of Cody, it was like everything else went from his mind. All he knew was the want that burnt bright in his belly, sudden and striking, immediate sexual desire like he'd never known it before. It's been proven that vampires are incredibly appealing to humans, their natural prey, no wonder he was so dizzy watching Cody walk away. Was his mind invaded from the first moment? Was he forced to say those things that led to them meeting? Did he even want this evening at all?

No matter how hard he tugs at his bonds, he can't break free, not even to tell Rachel or Santana what happened to him, even if they wouldn't believe him. They would have to, his neck is still bloody, the two puncture wounds obvious, and they could get him to a hospital. People say there's a way to stop the transformation, or at least slow it down until the venom can be removed from the blood. But the heat is overwhelming, it burns him, and he knows somewhere at the back of his pain-addled mind that it's too late. There's no stopping the transformation now.

He's left to lie there on the floor, wrists and ankles lashed together and his screams of agony muffled by the gag, as his heart slows and finally lets out one last thump and stops. The agony drains away, leaving only slight aches in his muscles, and Kurt opens his eyes to a new, brighter, sharper world. His wrists are still bound, but a hard tug on the suspenders tears them to shreds, and he makes equally short work of the knots on his ankles, tugging the gag out of his mouth and spitting out the taste of material. His body seems to thrum with new energy as he climbs to his feet, licking his dry lips slowly, feeling the bumps of his fangs beneath his gums.

Fangs that drop as the most delicious scent crashes over him - warmth and life and vitality, made sweet by alcohol, so tempting that his eyes drift shut and he takes a few steps without even realising it. But he pulls back, trying to remember beyond the haze of bloodlust and the disorientation of the transformation. He can't hurt these people, these women, his  _friends_. Both sleeping soundly, he can hear their gentle rhythmic breathing, Rachel and Santana. Pulling the curtain barring his room off aside, he can see them, Rachel letting out soft snuffling snores in her bed and Santana curled up under blankets on the blow-up mattress, hair thrown over her face and masking her expression.

Kurt's eyelids flutter with pleasure as he breathes in, inhaling the scent of their blood, young and strong and heady, the alcohol only making it more appealing. It could be easy. He wouldn't have to kill them, or change them. Just one bite, sink his fangs deep into their necks and drink, slowly and carefully, not wasting a drop. Stop before the damage became too much. He has that restraint - or so he believes. He's not a monster, he's still  _him_  underneath these new glowing eyes and fangs. A human who blindly hopes that his nature will be different, despite years of evidence to the contrary.

 _Come to me_. The call is loud, so loud that he looks around the loft frantically, then back to the two women. But neither of them even stir, and he moves away from the curtain.  _Come to me_. It's in his mind, a familiar and alluring voice, and he finds himself moving without really knowing where he's going, opening his window and climbing out onto the fire escape, the metal rattling beneath his feet as he runs. Lights blur and the night rushes by, and when he finally stops moving he's outside a small and secluded house. The walls are made of some dark stone, crumbling at the edges, and the door squeaks as it opens.

The man who steps out into the night is bright and strong. He glows at the edges, and Kurt drops to his knees as soon as he sees him, feeling the authority radiating out from him, his strength and his want, seeing everything he could give. "Master," he says softly, and his voice doesn't sound like his own. It's barely more than a whisper, submissive even in its tone. "My creator. I'm here."

Cody smirks down at him, lips twisted around his fangs, and guides Kurt to his feet. "I knew you'd turn out stunning," he says, his eyes roving over Kurt's body, calm and quietly assessing. "Do you feel stronger? Tell me, beautiful."

"I feel wonderful," Kurt says, in that same soft voice, and he looks up at Cody from beneath his lashes, slowly and deliberately licking his lips. "But, Master, I'm  _so_  thirsty. Could we go hunting?" He thinks about it, the thrill of the chase, the delicious scent of blood, the rush that comes with snatching someone from the lights of the city and finding release in their veins, drinking deeply until the human becomes nothing more than a dry husk. His heart starts to beat faster, phantom pleasure hot on his skin. "Oh  _please_ , Master."

Cody cups his cheek gently, fingertips brushing along his cheekbone, and Kurt leans into the touch. Master is good, taking care of him. "All in due time, my sweet," Cody breathes, and draws Kurt closer, hand dropping from his cheek to his hip, cool fingers sliding up beneath his shirt. "Now, come inside. Come see our new home."

Shaking his head slowly, Kurt remembers a place with laughter, and smiles, and music. He remembers warmth and companionship and a sense of belonging. "But what about my old place?" he asks shyly, sounding like a child even to his own ears. "Can't I go back there?"

"Kurt, darling, the people there are cruel," Cody says, and Kurt tenses. "Don't you remember? They tied you up and forced me to change you. They're hunters, they want to kill you. Here is the only place I can protect you from them. You can't leave this house without me, you can't let them find you. I'm the only one you can trust, do you understand me?"

It hurts Kurt, to hear that these people who he remembers in joy and love were against him, wanted to hurt him. To force the change on him, they must've hated him with a passion, finding that excuse to kill him. He's lucky that his master's call helped him to escape before he was hurt. "You saved me," he says, and Cody nods and smiles, taking Kurt's hands. "I love you, Master."

Cody's fingers card through Kurt's hair, and he pulls him close again, his breath warm against Kurt's lips. "I love you too, darling," he murmurs, and Kurt feels the warmth fill him up, making him float. He is loved, despite the betrayal of those laughing faces, his master loves him. "I am so sorry I had to change you, but I am so glad you managed to escape them. Humans do have a certain margin of error, after all. And now, we can be together."

Blinking up at Cody, feeling his fingers sliding up his side, Kurt shakes his head slowly, trying to rid it of the disorientating fog from being turned. As he does, memories float back, vague but there. "Were we...together? Before?" he asks, and Cody's hand suddenly stops moving, and when his gaze meets Kurt's his eyes are bright with tears. "Master?"

"I fell in love with you from afar," Cody says, his voice soft, one hand cupping Kurt's cheek, a tender smile on his lips. "And when I started to get close to you, I knew you weren't scared of me. I knew you were special. But I saw how much those people you considered friends hated you, wanted you dead, and I wanted to save you. But I never wanted to do it by turning you. Not when you didn't want to be like me." A single tear slips down his cheek, and Kurt hastens to lean up and kiss it away. "But now we can be together forever. You and me. Our love can be eternal."

At such a definitive declaration of Cody's love for him, of the bond they share - he remembers so much, remembers lying in bed with Cody's lips on his, remembers noticing the handsome man who looked at him with such astonishment, remembers telling his friends that he was in love and noticing the jealousy in their eyes - Kurt can't help but tear up, smiling at Cody. "I want to be with you forever," he says, and bows his head against Cody's shoulder. "Master."

Taking his hand, Cody smiles at him and says, "Come." He pushes the door open, hinges squeaking out in complaint, and guides Kurt into the tiny house. "It's not much, I know. You deserve more. But we have to lay low until the hunters move on from you. I can't risk you getting hurt." He pulls Kurt to his side, holding him close, and Kurt lets his eyes flutter closed, basking in the warmth of being loved, cared for, made safe. "Come, darling." His eyes gleam, and a frisson of want skitters down Kurt's spine. "I meant for tonight to be romantic. I hope it can still be that." His voice drops to a whisper as his hand lands on the doorknob of the door to the bedroom. "Our first time."

Kurt's eyes go wide when he sees the room, so carefully crafted to welcome him. The four-poster bed is luxurious, the sheets freshly changed and the pillows soft and welcoming. Candles crowd every flat surface in the room, and a helpless smile lights up his face when he sees the roses in their vase. Red, for romance and passion and the love he knows is real. There's nothing he could be surer of than this man's love for him.

Cody sweeps him off his feet, so romantic, and lays him down in the bed. Excitement already thrums bright through Kurt's body, the hunger for blood fading into background noise in favour of another hunger, his eyes falling slowly down Cody's body. The flashes of skin between each button of his shirt, the tantalising glimpse of his lower abdomen, every tease makes the heat rush across Kurt's skin. He can feel the strength of Cody's body on top of his, see the candlelight shining on his dropped fangs as he leans down and their lips meet.

The passion between them explodes the moment the kiss starts, Kurt tangling his fingers frantically in the back of Cody's shirt and pushing his hips up into Cody's, already aching for a touch, for pressure, for anything. He hears the sound of tearing material and breaks the kiss, noticing Cody laughing softly at the shreds of his shirt tangled around Kurt's fingers. "I knew you'd be strong," he murmurs, and his eyes gleam with mischief as he rips Kurt's shirt open, buttons rattling on the floor as he throws the useless material aside and dips down into another hungry kiss. "You are stunning."

Cody's eyes darken as he stares at the unmarked curve of Kurt's neck, licking his lips and fisting one hand in Kurt's hair, holding his head down against the pillow and to the side. Trembling with barely suppressed desire, Kurt moans, " _Yes_ ," as the tip of Cody's nose slides down his neck, breathing him in, the scent of the blood that still flows in him. The pleasure is like lighting, whipping through him, when Cody bites him, so intense that he bucks off the bed with a shriek, coming but still staying hard, sobbing out wordless pleasure.

Leaning up over him, threatening and dangerous and exciting, fangs shining and lips and chin smeared with blood, Cody runs the tip of a finger over the two wounds on Kurt's neck, running his bloody finger down Kurt's chest and sliding down the bed, tongue trailing across Kurt's skin. Shifting on the bed, eyelids fluttering, Kurt grabs for Cody's bicep and pulls him back up into a frantic kiss, licking the taste of blood from his mouth. It's not right - it's not human blood, a little bitter and thick, but it's still blood, and it satisfies the craving.

Kurt reaches for the nightstand, but Cody pins his wrist against the bed and presses the full weight of his body onto Kurt. It excites him, makes the heat burn bright in his belly again, being restrained by his master. Being  _owned_. "Tell me what you want," Cody growls, sex-deep, and Kurt's eyes roll back in his head a little. "Use your words, pet."

"Fuck me," Kurt says, and Cody smirks, one hand tracing down Kurt's torso to the heavy buckle of his belt. "Please, master. Use me, bite me, make me yours. Help me forget what they..." He has to stop, the tears coming to his eyes at the idea that these people he remembers being so good hated him with all their hearts. "I want to forget how they betrayed me. Show me I'm loved."

"Of course you are," Cody assures him, voice soft. There's tenderness in the way his hands sweep slowly up Kurt's sides, his gaze on Kurt's as he leans down and brushes a soft kiss to his lips, the metallic taste of blood still lingering. "You are everything to me, darling."

With quick, practiced movements, he unbuckles Kurt's belt and slips it from its loops, the snap of it echoing on the air as Kurt stares up at the man hovering over him. He's almost like a god, with the breadth of his shoulders and the glowing of his eyes and how dominating his very presence is, taking Kurt away from a terrible life and recreating him, into this whole new creature. Now he can be stronger and faster and better. "I love you," he says quickly, the tail end of his sentence going up in a gasp, hips twisting as the hard tips of Cody's fingers dig into his ass. " _Please_."

"You beg so prettily," Cody observes in a rough voice. "Maybe I should just make you wait. Listen to your perfect little pleas." He runs his fingers down Kurt's chest, making him shiver and whine, the heel of his hand pressing briefly over the bulge of Kurt's erection before sliding away again. "What do you want? Tell me what you want, Kurt."

"You, please, only you," Kurt whimpers through gritted teeth, tugging hard at Cody, pushing at the waistband of his pants, hoping to get both of them closer to the distant finish line. "Come  _on_ , please. I need you. It's...it's  _empty_."

Dragging his fingertips gently through Kurt's hair, Cody asks, "Are you sure that it's not just adrenaline lingering from being turned? Maybe we shouldn't do this. I can wait a little longer." His eyes are dark, and he looks so hotly dangerous with his dark eyes and blood-streaked face. "Can you?"

Shaking his head vigorously, Kurt drags Cody's hand down to cover his erection, rutting his hips up into the hard touch. His eyes roll back in his hand and he wails, fingers clenching on Cody's shoulder, and he hopes in the back of his desire-addled mind that he'll leave marks, bruises as deep beneath the skin as their love for each other. "I love you," he breathes, and Cody's mouth covers his, sharp and rough and strong.

"No more words, my darling," he says softly, pressing a finger against Kurt's parted lips. "Just let me take care of you the way you deserve." He tips Kurt's head back against the pillow, and his lips find the exposed skin of his neck, pale and soft and vulnerable, sucking kisses down his chest and trailing back up with the gentle stroke of the points of his fangs. Kurt's eyelids flutter closed at the touch, tender and true, and he barely notices Cody undressing both of them completely, until the touch of skin on skin.

They're cold - both of them. Undead, and for a moment the sadness quivers under his skin, threatening to spill over, to gush out of him. He longs briefly for heat, for a blush in his cheeks under the hands and lips of the man he loves, for a heart that beats and a life with an end that he doesn't fear. But, if he was still in that life, he would be in danger, from those laughing faces that hid the scheming underneath. Here, he is free to be with who he loves, to feel so alive beneath his touch, to be safe in his arms and know that no one will be able to harm him.

His hips twist and a moan falls from his lips as Cody's nails scrape down his back, leaving trickles of heat running over his skin in their wake. He feels taken out of reality, living in a realm where the only currency is pleasure, as those hands slide over his skin with such tenderness, as if he's some priceless artifact to be handled only with the utmost care. "You're going too  _slow_!" he whines, and tugs fruitlessly at Cody's arms, trying to lower his hands. "Please, Master." He moans again, long and low, and shifts beneath Cody, grinding against the jut of his hipbone

"All in due time, my darling," Cody says, and he sounds different. Darker, stronger, domineering. He sounds like  _Master_. "Now, I told you no more words, pet. Quiet, until I tell you you can speak."

The weight of the order squirms its way down into Kurt's gut, and he clamps his mouth shut, clenching his teeth as the soft moans and whimpers attempt to escape. He swallows them down and lets them flow through his blood, the way his body quivers with want and bucks at every touch, and the exaggerated heave of his chest as the first finger slides into him, his eyes slamming shut and his throat straining to cry out. "So pretty," Cody croons in his ear, and Kurt shivers. "You are extraordinarily lovely, my darling." He kisses Kurt, hard enough to bruise, so much love in the whisper of his fingertips against Kurt's side, and he bites Kurt's lower lip in punishment when a soft groan escapes as the finger inside him twists.

After that first moment, suspended and silent, the first intimate touch, shadowed by a soft, broken breath, Cody's lips are never far from Kurt's. There's so much love in his every touch, his palms gentle on Kurt's cool skin, caressing passion and want and unending adoration into his blood, filling him up with the pleasant warmth of knowing how loved he is. As Cody pushes slowly into him, quivering with the effort of holding back his supernatural strength, Kurt throws his head back and keens, long and low and loud. Eyes dark, Cody's head drops and he bites again. And again. And again. Over and over until Kurt's neck and shoulders are a mess of puncture marks and dark red blood, spilling over his pale skin in slender rivulets, turning his whole body into a work of art.

" _Cody_ ," Kurt whines out through his teeth, hips jerking. Every movement is so slow, measured, and his head is swimming with arousal to the extent that he can't think of anything but the man over him, dangerous with his flashing eyes and bloodstained lips. "Master,  _please_." With a smirk, twisted around his fangs, making him look wicked in the dim glow of the amassed candles, Cody leans into another kiss, long and hungry. Kurt moans against his mouth, eager for the hot touches, the taste of blood, the tension that hums beneath his skin.

It only takes three tugs of Cody's hand for Kurt to cry out and spill onto his own stomach, breathing hard and rough as he slumps beneath Cody's weight, smiling sleepily up at him with half-closed eyes, watching his face contort in pleasure. When it's over, as the want fades from his skin and leaves behind glowing happiness that makes him feel like he could float, Cody smiles sweetly, and brushes his fingers through Kurt's hair. "Did I hurt you?" he asks, the smile melting into concern, his fingers brushing over the wounds on Kurt's neck and shoulders and chest. "I was too rough. I'm so sorry, this wasn't what I wanted for you. You deserved more."

"Cody!" Kurt interrupts, an affectionate smile pulling at his lips, putting a hand against Cody's chest and smiling up at him. "It was perfect. I'm with you, and I love you. It couldn't be any better." They exchange a soft, sweet kiss, and Kurt sighs as Cody starts to kiss at his neck and shoulders, carefully licking away the blood drying on his skin. Biting at his lip for a moment, nervous as the afterglow fades, Kurt spills out, "You're beautiful too."

Eyes filled with love, Cody wraps his arms around Kurt's naked form, still stained with blood and come, and kisses his temple. "You're the most beautiful thing I've ever seen," he says softly, and Kurt sighs in contentment, leaning into yet another kiss. He's lost track of time, of how many times they've kissed over the night, of how many times he's felt able to fly with the tenderness of Cody's gentle caresses. But as he glances outside, he can see the shadow of the sunrise, and jumps in Cody's arms.

"I need clothes," he says hastily, and becomes aware of the gnawing hunger in his gut as the final vestiges of passion and lust fade. "And I'm  _so_  hungry. Please, can we go hunting? I need things, I need to go outside. Please, Cody." Batting his eyelashes, he even dares to sigh, "I love you."

"Kurt, surely you know that no being is all-powerful," Cody says, fingers drawing abstract patterns into Kurt's chest, trailing down over his stomach and his thighs, and slowly swirling back up, peaking Kurt's interest again, his hips shifting. "Vampires may have immortality and supernatural strength and speed and all of our mind powers, but there are limitations to our power. Artifacts of a holy nature and sunlight could kill you, and I can't risk losing you. We've known each other for such a short time, and I want to spend my forever with you." With a kiss to Kurt's forehead, he promises, "I'll go hunting tonight, and bring you back a treat. And you can wear my clothes for the time being."

"Aren't vampires supposed to be elegant and dressed in head to toe couture?" Kurt asks, and Cody just shakes his head, pressing quick kisses all over Kurt's face. "So what are we supposed to do all day? Sleep?"

"Actually," Cody smirks again as he slides down the bed, eyes swelling up dark again, "I had something else in mind." A wet kiss smacked against the soft and sensitive skin of Kurt's inner thigh, and he's gone, surrendering himself again to the magic of Cody's touch with nothing more than a moan and his fingers clenching in the messy sheets.

* * *

Kurt awakes alone, with the night at the windows. The sheets are tangled around his legs, and he smells like blood and come. Climbing out of bed, he wants to examine himself in the dusty glass mirror, but when he looks into the glass, smeared with fingerprints, it reflects only the silent room. Instead, he looks down at himself, noting every bite mark on his shoulders and chest, each surrounded by a dark bruise. There are a few on his thighs too, and every one sends a thrill through him, a jolt of arousal warming him when he presses the pads of his fingers into them. These are badges of love, badges that show his devotion to his master, and he'll wear nothing but them with pride.

The door to the house squeaks, and Kurt turns around to smile as Cody opens the door to their bedroom. His lips are still red with fresh blood, but despite the hunt his clothes are neat and elegant, even with their simplicity, and Kurt smiles at him. "Master," he purrs, crossing the room to wrap his arms around Cody's neck, gently grinding his naked pelvis against Cody's clothed one. "Did you bring me my treat? I woke up and you weren't there, and I wanted you."

"You are just as beautiful now as you've always been to me," Cody says, and draws Kurt into his arms, kissing him. Intoxicated by the scent of blood,  _human_  blood, Kurt licks his way eagerly into Cody's mouth, shuddering at the taste clinging to his tongue, his cock growing hard against Cody's hip. "Oh darling, I didn't forget about you. There's a little something for you in the front room. But he won't see you like this." His voice takes on his darker tone, possessive, as he takes Kurt's ass in his hands and squeezes, growling, "Like this, you are only mine."

"Of course, Master," Kurt says simply, and reaches for a shirt thrown over the back of a chair, slipping it over his shoulders. Of course, it barely covers him, and he leaves it open to proudly display his scars, but it's always fun to be able to push Cody's buttons, to see the brief flash of  _mine_  in his eyes before he slips on loose shorts too. He bestows one last kiss on Cody, and says, "I belong to you,  _Master_ ," before he struts out, finding a blonde man sitting in an armchair in the living room, looking dazed. Even more so when he sees Kurt. "Hi," Kurt says softly, and flashes a come-hither smile at the man. "I'm Kurt. What's your name?"

"Adam," the man says, his eyes glazed over, like he isn't fully there. Stretching his mind out, Kurt finds his, sifting through the basic information and smirking with pride when he finds logical thought addled by immediate want.

"I think I'll just call you  _handsome_ ," he says sweetly, and sways his hips as he crosses over to Adam, perching on the arm of his chair and settling his feet in Adam's lap, stretching out his legs. "You want something, handsome?"

"You," Adam says immediately, and then flushes, clearing his throat harshly. "I'm sorry, that was very forward of me. I'm not normally like this, I'm just not myself right now." His words trail off in a strangled sound as Kurt slides down into his lap, carefully folding up his legs and smiling at him, fingers teasing at the buttons on his shirt.

"Sweetheart, it's no problem," he says silkily, and presses his hips against Adam's, letting him feel his erection, his body still thrumming with excitement from Cody, the taste of blood on his lips and the strength of his hold and the love he awakes in Kurt's heart. "I want you too, handsome." Clamping his fingers on the stiff shirt collar, he purrs, "Come here," and leans in to breathe over Adam's lips. "You say you want me? Prove it."

Adam is surprisingly strong, his fingers thick on Kurt's back when he kisses him, hands sliding up beneath Kurt's loose shirt and then toying with the waistband of his shorts in hope. With a throaty moan, Kurt allows the caresses to slide further down, hot and excited hands on his ass, clutching and grabbing at him. When Adam jerks away, Kurt stares at his neck with dark eyes, the smooth skin calling to him, tempting him to lean in and bite, drink his fill, until he's warm with satisfaction and the ache in his stomach fades. "I never do this," Adam groans as Kurt presses closer.

His eyes stay open when Adam kisses him again, eager with his tongue and fingertips, and he sees Cody standing in the doorway to their bedroom. His eyes find Kurt's, and they're like steel, hard and cold and possessive. The idea of how much his master wants him, loves him, feels the craving to  _own_  him, thrills right through Kurt, and he moans aloud, hips jerking hard. "Only you," he whispers against the shell of Adam's ear, and he can see Cody's stiff posture loosen a little. "Only want you."

"I'm so lucky," Adam says softly, his voice rough and hoarse. He pushes Kurt back slightly, and draws a finger down the side of his face, gentle and loving and too close for Kurt's taste. "You're stunning." A jolt of warning buzzes harshly in Kurt's mind - only one person gets to touch him like that, as if he's precious and important, and this stranger doesn't get to call him sweet words. He's nothing more than a victim.

Kurt bites, and Adam cries out, body jerking. As his fangs pierce through skin and the blood starts to flow, Kurt lets out a sharp and shocked moan of pleasure, the sweet taste of the blood filling him up as he sucks greedily, eager to drain this man of every drop he has to offer. It spills down over his lips and his chin, sticky and thick, and he can hear the muffled sound of Cody's moan. Lifting his head, he watches Cody move to him with half-lidded eyes, heavy with sleepy lust, and accepts the hard kiss that Cody crashes against his mouth.

"You look so sexy when you do that," he groans into the kiss, and Kurt lets himself be torn away from his prey as Cody lifts him with such little effort, sweeping him out of the chair and into his arms, holding him close and licking the blood out of his mouth until they're simply sharing the mouthful, back and forth.

"Kurt," Adam says, his voice quiet and weak and feeble, nothing next to Cody, bright and shining and strong. "Who's that? I thought I was the only one."

Kurt hears the crash before he sees Cody move, throwing the man against the wall and staring down at him with disdain in his eyes. "You're nothing but food," he snarls, fangs bared and lips bloodstained. He looks so dangerous, so threatening, so able to kill that Kurt feels weak in the knees, seeing the fierce predator that his beloved becomes to protect him. "I'm the love of his life, do you understand me? We're going to spend forever together, because the love we share is stronger than anything you could ever hope to have."

"I don't understand," Adam says, voice monotonous and brow furrowed, looking between them. "Kurt, you're with  _him_? But...I've seen him around. Following people... _stalking_  them." He stands on weak legs, dabbing at the wound on his neck gingerly, fingertips stained vivid scarlet that makes Kurt's head swim and his fangs lengthen, desire hot beneath his skin. Kurt backs away when Adam reaches out for him, backing up against the solid strength of Cody's body, finding solace and protection in the arm that curls around him, holding him close and keeping him safe. "Kurt, you don't have to stay here. If you're being made to do this. I can  _help_. There are places you could go, people you could call - we'll be able to make it better for you."

" _Better_?" Kurt exclaims in shock, even though he can feel the warning nudging at his mind, feel the caution in Cody's tensed body. He shouldn't respond to this human, this lesser form, simply trying to make him talk, make him doubt the truth that Cody ensured he knew. Knowing he lived lies all those years, it's as if he was wearing a blindfold or looking through glass, and now the cloth is removed, the glass smashed, and he sees everything as it truly is. "You think that life out there is better? Everyone I ever thought loved me is really trying to kill me. I can't trust anyone outside these walls. I'm safer here, with someone who truly loves me."

Adam looks at Cody, and his eyes turn hard and dark. "You think he loves you?" he asks, almost spitting the words out, as if they're leaving a terrible taste in his mouth. "All I see is him holding you back so you won't touch me or talk to me. That's not love, it's just being possessive." He reaches out again, and Kurt jerks away, eyes going wide and full of fear. He can't trust humans, none of them, especially not those who lie to him about the world outside. It's hostile and full of danger, and there is only acceptance and security in Cody, arms around Kurt and shielding him. "Come with me, Kurt. You're not gone. There's still good in you. You could come outside, see that it's not so bad. What was your life before you became a vampire?"

"A lie," Cody says before Kurt can answer, and he is so grateful to be spoken for, to not have to confront those laughing memories that send a spike of sadness through him, knowing that it was all fake, simply pieced together to cover that hatred that lurked beneath each smiling face. "A life without love or trust, only hatred and cover-ups. You may not believe so, but we have love. And that's more than you will ever have."

He watches Cody drink from the wound in Adam's neck with barely a sound, but when he hears the dull snap of a bone breaking and sees the human body slump, senses the warmth leaking from the dead man like air from a balloon, Kurt suddenly finds himself crying rasping sobs. His body shakes with the force of every one, and he isn't quite sure why the tears began or how to stop them, doubled over and holding himself together, cracked shards of a person in a pale imitation of what he used to be.

"It's okay, my darling," Cody murmurs, voice soft and soothing, all the simmering fury and harshness gone, only tenderness remaining. His touch is gentle, his expression concerned and loving, but his face blurs and Kurt is crying for something he doesn't even remember. It's not for the dead man - he is of little concern. It's for something,  _someone_ , that he can't quite grasp, as if it's a dream he's trying desperately to hold on to upon waking. It lingers on the edge of his memory, yet he still can't reach it - a faded impression made on his life, on his heart and his mind and his body. Something lost.

"He's gone," he hears himself sob. "She's gone. They're all gone. Gone  _forever_. And he's not coming back. I'll never hear his voice again." Cody tugs at him, and he's kneeling, leaning on Cody as if he's a pillar to support his weak frame, still crying helplessly, and there are soft lips on his temple and his cheek and his shoulder, trying to kiss the comfort into his skin. "He's  _gone_."

"Darling, I didn't realise you cared about the humans," Cody says softly, and kisses Kurt's forehead sweetly. "They're not worth you going through this pain. All they will ever do is hurt you and lie to you and hunt you down because of their own fears and prejudices. They will never understand you."

"He's lost." It comes out as barely a whisper, and Kurt doesn't notice the frown that washes over Cody's concerned expression, the jolt of fear in his eyes. "I don't remember. But he's lost. To me, he's lost." Turning his tear-stained face up to Cody, he hears how child-like he sounds as he whispers, "Bring him back."

"Your father?" Cody asks softly, and it feels familiar. That void that's yawned open within Kurt's heart seems to fill a little, with warmth and love, and he nods, swiping at his cheeks to smear the tearstains across his skin. "Kurt, your father is dead. Those hunters, knowing you were dating me, they tried to get to you through him. He wouldn't tell them how to find you, so they killed him. He tried to hold on a little longer, so he could see you one last time, but he died just as you reached the hospital. I found you on the steps, crying your heart out."

The memories rush back from the gloom of Kurt's addled mind - a hospital room, his father on the bed, unconscious and so frighteningly pale. Him screaming for a nurse, for someone to help, but they ignored him. Of course they did, they don't respect vampires, especially not in places that heal people so they won't die, but refuse to consider using the bite as a way to cure terminal diseases. Seemingly, it's better to die than to become a vampire. "My dad is really dead?" he asks, and his voice is so small, thick with tears. Cody nods, squeezes Kurt's hand gently, and guides him to his feet. "I...I don't think I've finished feeding."

Cody takes both of Kurt's hands in his, pulling each up to his lips to kiss them tenderly, each finger and individual knuckle and the soft palms. "I'll go back out there and find you something," he promises, and turns Kurt away from the body slumped against the wall, blood splattered over the pale wallpaper in a disturbing piece of artwork. "Perhaps I overestimated you. Clearly, you haven't adjusted to the change yet. I promise, all these side effects will end soon, as your body becomes used to your new state of being. Humanity can be extremely tenacious."

It isn't until the door clicks shut behind Cody, Kurt lying on his stomach on the bed and sniffling softly, using the edge of the pillowcase to wipe away his tears, that he hears the implication of the words. Of course, he knows he's not human any more - he's been changed, to a creature with no heartbeat or reflection or warmth to their skin. But he doesn't want to lose his humanity. With humanity comes compassion, respect, understanding, empathy. It frightens him, to think that perhaps Cody has lost his. The man he loves might be a mere shell of a person, with a heart shrivelled by years lurking in the realm of the undead, a creature without concern for others or the ability to feel love, to feel his heart alight with warmth.

But he feels stupid for questioning the word of the only man he is sure he can trust. Of course Cody still has his humanity - he loves Kurt. He cares for him and respects him - Kurt only needs to consider how willing he was to simply back off when he feared that Kurt was still weak from the change, or the way he dropped immediately to Kurt's side when he was crying. And does he really want to cling to his humanity? People are selfish and absorbed in their own lives, and only a chosen few ever think to look beyond the walls they surround themselves with and extend their hand to others. How can he even consider wanting to remain in a race that rejects anything that proves to be different, that will refuse help to someone just because of who they are and cannot help being?

Cody returns with a collection of blood bags, and Kurt sucks eagerly at each plastic pouch, his lips stained red by the sweet-smelling blood and his hunger finally sated, fangs dropped as he leans back against Cody with a contented sigh. Those familiar fingers run through his hair, and he stretches up into the touch, a rumbling little sigh escaping his lips. "I was so worried about you, my darling," Cody says, and Kurt smiles softly, looking up into bright eyes filled with love. "I'm sorry if anything I said hurt you. You need to know the truth, you've lived by their lies for so long. You know you can trust me."

"I love you," Kurt says softly, and tilts his head up for a soft, sweet kiss, one that puts a light in his eyes and a smile on his lips. "And of course I know I can trust you. You're the only one. And you're right - humanity is tenacious, but I hope that I can let go of it soon, and stop feeling so much for my old life. Some of my memories are happy, but those are all lies. You've shown me that." Laying his head against Cody's chest and idly sucking on the tips of his finger, searching out any lingering taste of blood, he asks, "Will you tell me more about us? How did we meet?"

Laying his hand over Kurt's heart, skin cool through his clothes - but if Kurt closes his eyes and dreams, he can reach for a memory of warmth, gentleness, love that seeped into his skin - Cody says, "I first saw you across a crowded room. You were with those women who called themselves your friends, hunters I had been warned about. But you were laughing and smiling, and their arms were linked through yours, and I feared for you. Approaching you when they left, I asked your name, and I saw the way you looked at me, the prettiest blush stealing across your skin. I knew you were so special - I didn't want to simply feed from you. I wanted you with me forever. But you...when I confessed what I was and asked only that you didn't stop loving me because of it, you said that you wouldn't. You said such beautiful things. But you told me that you never wanted to become like that, and I promised that I would respect that."

"So, how was I turned?" Kurt looks up at Cody, and wonders at how he ever could've doubted that this man still has his humanity. Hearing this story shows him exactly how wrong he was - that Cody, after spending years as a vampire and undoubtedly losing hundreds of people he cared about, was so willing to sacrifice his own happiness in order to honour Kurt's wishes, it shows him that this is a truly good man that he has fallen in love with. "If you were sure that you wouldn't turn me, how exactly could you be forced to do it? You're so strong, couldn't you just get away from them?"

"You underestimate how clever hunters can be," Cody says darkly, and he's staring away from Kurt when he looks up, a storm brewing behind his eyes. "Vampires have superior strength and speed, so those who hunt us have to be cunning and tactical. You invited me to your apartment, for an evening alone, and I couldn't refuse. But both of them were there, and it was all a trap that I didn't think about enough. By the time I reached you, they'd tied you up. They had a spray that the police use, which momentarily paralyses us, makes us weak and feeble and able to be manipulated by mere humans. While I was dizzy, they pushed me to you, and somehow they knew I was hungry. When I smelt your blood, I bit without thinking about it, and some lesser part of my mind knew you were my mate. I never meant to change you, Kurt, you must understand that. I wanted to abide by your wishes, but they did wrong. I was conned into it, and I am so sorry for causing you pain."

Kurt stares up at the ceiling for a moment, eyes round and wide. He never expected to hear Cody try to talk himself out of the act by implicating other people. Of course, the hunters that Kurt surrounded himself with didn't have to tie him up, but Cody seems to be trying to cover up cracks in his morality. He's never heard of a spray that could incapacitate vampires in all his years of research, and it sounds positively absurd that his strong and powerful master could be overpowered by mere intelligence. But then the doubts are swept aside by the wave of love that warms him - Cody  _apologised_. It's obvious in his wet eyes that he regrets every moment of it, and wishes fervently that circumstances were different, that they weren't having this conversation. "Of course you didn't mean it," he says soothingly, and Cody finally smiles, his face relaxing from its stoic expression. "I understand, I promise. I love you, no matter what."

"I love you too," Cody whispers, and leans down to kiss Kurt softly, pulling the last vestiges of blood from his lips and tilting their forehead together. It feels like contentment, mutual respect and passion and concern, and Kurt can't help but feel it down to his bones: how  _lucky_  he is. Cody may have turned him when he never wanted to be turned, but he understands the story, understands that circumstances around their relationship have been so hard to navigate. He is blessed to have love and have a man who cares for him so much that he would kill to protect him.

They stay in bed as the sunset turns the sky red as blood, clouds shot through with gold turning to wisps as the moon rises, a pale baleful face in the sky. Cody's hands are so gentle, though his skin is cold as ice, so cold it seems to burn Kurt's skin. He wonders if he will look down and see the flat, shiny, pink marks of those fingers on him, scarred into him by impossible cold. Tender touches and sweet lips can't change how cold he is when Kurt knows from human memory that there should be a rush of heat to match the excitement, a pounding heart to match the way his body writhes beneath Cody's ministrations.

He closes his eyes tight when it's over, and wraps an arm around himself in a cruel impression of a relationship. Cody slides away again, as if he were only a dream, and Kurt stares at the darkness of the room, the darkness that encircles him and creeps into his soul and his heart, poisoning his mind. No matter how much he wishes to remain in the light, the bite that Cody has given him has forced him into the dark, doomed to follow the night for all of eternity. He'll never know again the warmth of a loving embrace, or feel the heat of a bashful blush in his cheeks, or understand what it is for someone to make his heart skip a beat. And though he should be grateful for the chance to live forever, it is being denied those simple human experiences that makes the tears spring to his eyes as he presses his face into the pillow until he can see stars behind his eyes, imagining that one day he will reach them. One day, he'll be free.

* * *

_The room is stark and angular, nothing left of the home he remembers. Everyone in it is tense, walking from wall to wall with nowhere else to go, or looking to each other for support. The taller woman is comforting the smaller woman, while the older woman is holding hands with a man her own age, both of them holding onto each other as if there's nothing else left in the world to keep safe._

" _It's our fault," the shorter woman whispers, her voice thick with tears._

" _Honey, you can't blame yourself for this," the older woman says, as the taller young woman pulls the shorter closer, and the younger man reaches out a tentative hand to squeeze her shoulder._

" _But we took his word!" the shorter cries, tears slipping down her cheeks, her knuckles white as she clutches at a handful of her own skirt. "He just came out and told us Kurt was sleeping! We didn't even bother to check on him, we just let him go and assumed that Kurt was naked or something! We were too busy giggling and drinking to even check on the safety of our best friend! We didn't even realise he was gone until we opened the curtain the next morning and found the room empty and no note left behind! We took the word of a man we'd only known a few hours!"_

" _Wait..." the younger man says, and every eye in the room turns to him. "So you'd only known this guy a few hours, and you invited him over? And got drunk with him? And Kurt was probably going to sleep with him?"_

" _Finn, please, I think we have bigger problems," the older man says, and sits down next to the taller of the young women, handing her a tissue and giving her a reassuring smile. "It's not your fault, ladies, I promise you. Have you heard from him?"_

" _No one has," she replies, and clasps a hand over her thigh, pushing out a shuddering breath. "Four weeks, and not a word. The police say we should prepare ourselves in case he is..." She trails off, seemingly unable to continue her sentence. "The only evidence they've found is Kurt's blood, and fingerprints that don't match up to any in their database. He hasn't contacted anyone. Neither of us, not you guys, not even Blaine."_

" _I thought he was joining us for dinner," the younger man says, brow furrowed in confusion as he reaches for his phone on the table and checks the screen, frown deepening when he finds it empty. "Is he sick?"_

" _In the heart," the shorter young woman says, wiping her wet eyes and sniffing hard. "This is really hard for him, Finn. He hasn't seen Kurt since Grease, and he's devastated that he might have lost him for good. Just leave him be. He just wants Kurt back."_

_The older man puts an arm around the older woman, and another around the crying young woman. "We all do," he says softly, and they all lean in together, a family holding each other up._

Kurt jerks awake with a sharp intake of breath, clutching at the bedsheets. Blinking hard, the dream fades away, but the images of those faces remain burned into his mind. Scarred with tears and drawn with fear, with the pain of loss in their eyes. His name on their lips, and the fear of him being dead they all spoke of. But it was only a dream. He doesn't know them, only knows of the reality he has here, in this house.

Cody still hasn't returned from the hunt, and Kurt sits up in bed, pushing the sheet away and running his hands over his thighs, staring blindly at the wall. He hates being left alone as the dawn starts to come, striping the walls a watery grey, silvery against the white wallpaper. He hates not knowing where the one person he can trust is. He hates lying in bed with no one for company but himself, and his own reeling thoughts.

Standing up from the bed, the sheet whispering over his skin like the gentle caress of a lover, he looks around to make sure he's alone before he carefully peels back the corner of the dark material covering the mirror. Confident that he's alone, he pulls hard and it comes away, settling into a crumpled pile on the floor. Kurt looks up to see himself in the mirror, but the glass reflects only the room behind him, and he wistfully presses a hand against the cool glass where he imagines his face to be. If only he could see himself, trace his own features and see the changes the bite has forced on him. Looking down at himself, he can see each bite scarred into his skin, pinpricks fading from angry red, the newest, to white, the oldest. Some are surrounded by bruises, some are still sticky with drying blood, but each one of them is like a tattoo of Cody's name in his flesh.

He still hasn't been hunting. Despite the fact that he feels fully recovered from the change, with far fewer spells of dizziness or memory lapses - though sometimes he feels like there are gaping holes in his memory, but remembers Cody promising he would take the suffering away and wonders if those moments have been faded to black for his own sake - Cody still won't allow him to leave the house. Every time Kurt asks, or lingers in the front room while Cody prepares for the hunt that can sometimes last all night, Cody simply responds with a distracting kiss and the same excuse - that Kurt can't be outside because of the hunters still looking for him.

But, from the way Cody talks, it's obvious that he's been a vampire for many years, and Kurt is aware that vampires only grow stronger the longer they remain in that state of being. Surely Cody could protect him from the hunters? He wants to be free, to go beyond the walls that feel more and more like a prison and see the city again. How can he ever survive alone if he doesn't know how to hunt? Humans might be physically weaker than vampires, but intellectually they are just as capable, and he needs to know how to outwit them.

Kurt hears the door opening, and quickly covers the mirror again before turning with a winning smile on his lips, letting love brighten his eyes as Cody opens the bedroom door and grins at him, fangs still tinged red and a collection of blood bags dangling from his hands. "Broke into a blood bank to bring my darling a treat," he says, setting the pile down on the bed, and turns to Kurt with a smile.

There's no sense of movement before Cody has a hand around Kurt's throat, pinning him against the wall with his feet kicking at thin air. Tugging at those fingers that are usually so gentle to him in a futile effort, Kurt chokes out a strangled scream when he sees Cody's eyes black and flashing dangerously. The blood around his mouth doesn't smell sweet any more, only cloying, the scent coppery and thick on the air between them. "What the fuck did you do?" he snarls, fangs bared and glistening in the light, highlighting the sharp points that could as easily tear a throat out as run teasingly down Kurt's chest and make him shiver. "Have you been outside?"

"No, I promise!" Kurt says, his voice weak and pinched. "I've been here the whole time, Master! I've been sleeping! Waiting for you! I had a really odd dream, but it was just that!" Blinking back tears from the pain of having his throat crushed with all of Cody's superhuman strength, he quietly pleads, "Let me go."

Cody lets him drop, and Kurt stands up rubbing at his neck, wondering if the touch might have been hard enough to bruise. "Master?" he asks softly, staring at Cody's back turned to him. In all the time they've been together, Cody has never once tried to shut him out, always welcoming him in, and having it happen now almost makes him cry. Right now, he needs the touch of the man he loves to reassure him after such a disconcerting experience, and Cody won't even talk to him. "Cody?" There are tears in his eyes, burning when he's so used to being cold, and he reaches out for Cody's shoulder.

But Cody whips around seconds before Kurt's fingertips brush his skin, and clashes their mouths together in a fierce, violent kiss, a fang breaking Kurt's skin and letting the blood bubble over and spill out. Cody sucks greedily at the small cut as he backs Kurt towards the bed with hard shoves, blood-stained lips mapping out Kurt's neck and shoulders, leaving red stains blooming like flowers across his skin. "You drive me insane," he growls against Kurt's neck, biting again and again, blood gushing across their skin like a grotesque waterfall.

Cody rears up, dark-eyed, and his skin is splashed with blood as he rips through Kurt's clothes to get at his naked skin, lips firm and rough as he trails kisses and licks down Kurt's chest, making him whine and shift his hips. He reaches for one of the blood bags and tears it open with frantic fingers, emptying it over Kurt's skin. It drips down to stain the sheets beneath them, but Kurt's eyes slam shut as Cody's mouth sucks at his skin, cleaning it of every drop, and the scent of the blood when he's so hungry is making him dizzy. Cody keeps him hungry, only bringing him more blood every few days. He maintains it's because he finds it difficult to break into the blood banks in order to bring him the bags.

"Please, Master," he grits out through his teeth, hips rising and churning against Cody's lips on his stomach and his thighs. Grabbing another blood bag, he pierces it with one fang and sucks greedily, letting the sweet liquid sate the emptiness of his belly, and grabs Cody towards him for another frantic kiss, feeling those familiar hands all over him, the ice-cold of Cody's skin burning, reminding him of every touch after the fingers have slid to another part of him.

Alas, it's over far too quickly. Cody is almost violent, every touch bruising and possessive, and for the first time since that horrible night, Kurt wonders if there might have been some truth in the brazen statement Adam made before his death - his  _murder_. He wonders if perhaps there is a darkness in Cody beyond the sweet kisses and affectionate glances and tender caresses. If Cody truly looks at him as a possession, and will keep him in this house forever, imprisoned and under his control.

Rolling off him when it's over, Cody stands out of bed and walks away, leaving Kurt lying alone. He sits up slowly, wincing with every small movement, and reaches up with a shaky hand to touch the bites in his flesh. Getting up quickly, he slips into the small, cramped bathroom and locks the door tight, fingers trembling as he leans back against the door, letting it hold him up as his legs feel weak, unable to support his weight. He slides to the floor and curls up in a ball, feeling like a child again, hiding from the evils of the world.

The tears come quite suddenly, and he covers his face with his hands to muffle his splintered sobs, shoulders shaking violently with every one. It's so unfair, that he has to stay inside, cut off from all form of civilisation. It's so unfair that the only love he has comes from the man who turned him, and deep down he doesn't believe the story Cody's told him about how it happened. It's so unfair that he's trapped in the darkness when he wanted to stay in the light, forced to become a creature that society considers a demon when he wanted to be human, to be warm and bright and loved. It's so unfair that he can't even dream without Cody hurting him.

He stands carefully, staring at the covered mirror, and reaches for the small bag of cotton wool pads that lies beneath the medicine cabinet. Obviously, there used to be people here, before they moved in, and Kurt wonders for a moment what happened to them. Did they move away? Or did something far worse happen to them? He imagines blood and screaming, innocent people murdered, and his stomach turns, the tears pricking hotly at his eyes all over again. But he breathes in, and lets the images dissolve into blackness, the way he does with everything that makes him upset or furious, trying to remain serene and closed off to human emotions. It's the only way to survive.

Wetting the pad, Kurt starts gently wiping at the blood on his chest and shoulders and neck, sticky and drying on his skin, flaking away when he presses the pads of his fingers against it. The pad quickly turns crimson, and he methodically takes another, continuing to wipe until his fingers don't come away red anymore. The blood sprawls out like flowers across its white canvas, and he stares at it. Stares at the evidence that Cody wants to own him, spelled out before him in all the blood he's cleaning off himself. These bites don't give him pleasure anymore. Now, they scare him, make him feel walled in. Concrete walls, impenetrable. A cell where no one can hear his cries for help, no matter how loud they might be.

By the time he leaves the bathroom, his face hopefully clear of any signs that he was crying, Cody is sitting on the end of the bed, his face the perfect picture of remorse. "Are you alright, my darling?" he asks softly, and reaches for Kurt's hands. Pushing against his instincts, shutting down the voice that presses at the back of his mind and tells him that this is dangerous, Kurt smiles at him sweetly. "I worry, sometimes, that perhaps you're not ready for a love like this."

"I am," Kurt says, and he knows it's true. Even though Cody scares him, he knows he's ready for this crazy, heartbreaking, all-encompassing, mountain-moving love. "I'm old enough to know what life is, and to know that I should be able to love people. Anyone I choose."

"And I am so glad that you chose me," Cody says, and pulls Kurt down into a kiss, soft and sweet and gentle. He seems like his old self again, not the angry and dark creature that Kurt is frightened of. But as Cody slides up next to him and wraps an arm around him, Kurt wonders which one is real - is this loving, sweet man simply a persona, a mask that he wears? Or is it his nature that drives him into a monster, that thing he always seems sorry to be?

He stares at the wall, the light paint turned into murky darkness, and he feels the weight of Cody's arm across him as if it's holding him down, keeping him from flying. He stares out of the window, at the wisps of cloud silvered by the moon, haloed with its glow. Are there angels up there? Would they watch over someone like him, a demon hovering between life and death? A rotting creature going to hell? Just in case, he closes his eyes and whispers, "Please," into the pillow, barely a breath in the silence.

* * *

" _My job is to love you, no matter what."_

" _You move me, Kurt."_

" _You and me, man, we're brothers from another mother."_

" _You're the bravest, truest person I have ever met."_

" _It was more fun doing it together."_

 _They all look at him with soft smiles on their faces, reaching out their hands for him. Rachel puts an arm around him and hums the notes of_ For Good _, the song that is only for them. Santana is laughing and smiling as she dances around him. Finn grins, his smile lighting up his whole face, and wraps his arms tight around Kurt, holding him close. His father smiles from the sidelines, eyes wet with pride. They chant their words over and over again, still moving around him, and they ripple apart like water to allow Blaine through._

_He is silent, but he takes Kurt's hands and it's like a promise, held in his warm fingers as they wrap around Kurt's, setting a gentle flame alight within him. Sputtering and flickering, but there, burning bright and strong. "You're the love of my life," he says softly, sweetly, and leans in to kiss Kurt's lips. Each hand rises to frame his face, as gentle as if he were the most precious artifact in history, and Kurt finds himself winding his arms around Blaine's neck, responding to every touch._

" _I love you," he says softly, and his voice is warm and sweet, and Blaine beams at him, eyes bright like jewels, and when he slides away Kurt feels bereft. The cold settles back in, the dark, and he feels like he's being pulled back, away from this beautiful world where he wants to stay forever, where everyone he loves is waiting for him, always there._

" _We all love you, Kurt Hummel," his father says, putting his arms around Rachel and Santana. Both women lay their heads on his shoulders, waving to Kurt with smiling faces. "Come back to us." Blaine blows a kiss, his eyes shining with tears, and Finn holds out his fist as if Kurt could reach out and bump it with his own. "Remember, Kurt. You have to_ remember _."_

Dragging in a sharp breath, Kurt awakes at the sudden, painful onslaught of memories, technicolour ripping through every lie Cody told him like they're spider webs, tearing the intricate structure apart and leaving the truth behind. Four weeks since the dream, the  _vision_ , and he had hoped they might return to his mind, those people, to help him. His father, his friends,  _the love of his life_ , they all came to help him, to show him the light, to force him to remember.

He scrambles out of bed, and searches the house quickly, looking into every room. He's alone, Cody must be out hunting, and he runs to the bedroom, looking for the clothes he wore that night. The night he was taken, kidnapped, pulled away from his life and forced into this pale imitation of existence, held between four walls and left to drive himself insane with his twisting thoughts, left to perhaps die there.

" _What about this?" Rachel asks, slurping down the last of her eggnog and holding up a sheer shirt with a smirk on her red-painted lips. "If you want to get a guy into bed, you gotta show some skin."_

" _Some, Rach, not all!" Kurt exclaims, although he's laughing as she darts away before he can grab the shirt, waving her prize over her head and giggling. "Come on, girls, I really need help with this. What the hell do you wear for a guy?"_

" _Do you still have your Cheerios uniform?" Santana asks, and Kurt shoots her a withering look. "Okay, okay, I'm kidding. Here." She throws a pair of jeans and a shirt to him, and says, "You wore those jeans once, and I swear to God I almost propositioned you. It was a good look on you." Kurt blows her a kiss, and takes another fortifying slug of eggnog before he shoos the women out so he can change._

Snatching the clothes up, and ignoring the old brown bloodstains, Kurt wrestles them on quickly, throwing the clothes he borrowed from Cody across the room in disgust. Looking out of the window, he can see the dawn coming - the sun is starting to rise, and haloing every pale cloud with its silver lining. Cody will be back soon, and with that in mind he rushes to the door and jerks the handle. He needs to get away, has to be home with the people who love him, run away before Cody returns and reads his mind and finds a way to keep him here forever.

But the door is locked, and he runs through the rest of the house. The windows in the bathroom are high, but big enough for him to climb out of - he's lost weight while he's been kept captive, he knows he has - and he hefts the heaviest thing he can find through the glass. Thank God, the small wooden sculpture from the front room smashes through the window with a satisfying crash, and Kurt climbs up and slips out. It's a tight fit, and he can feel the glass cut into his skin, but he ignores every twinge of pain and drops down on the other side of the wall.

Pulling each piece of glass out of the small grazes with his fingers, biting his lip hard to keep from crying out, he starts to run. He doesn't know where he's going - after all, the controlling voice in his mind guided him here the first night. But he just has to get away, so he runs, in the fine mist of rain that drips down his skin, and he finds himself at the door to the apartment block where their loft is. He stares up at the window, at the pathetically tiny balcony where they used to squash together and talk. He can almost see it, the night before everything fell apart like a house of cards in the wind, when Santana pulled a packet of cigarettes from her pocket and offered them around like a challenge, and all three of them stood squashed together on the rickety metal floor and blew smoke up to the sky and tried not to cough or let their eyes water. None of them wanted to be the first to crack, and when Santana bent over coughing they all laughed, and flicked the burning butts of their cigarettes over the railing, and watched them fall like shooting stars, and wished on them for good luck. And that wish never came true.

Each step closer to home feels like moving through water, and he leans against the wall and lets himself breathe, dragging in every breath and exhaling slowly, trying to calm himself down. They're going to be grateful to see him. More than grateful -  _thrilled_. It'll seem like a miracle to them, that he's alive and he's returned to them. The door is open, and he pushes it aside with that horrible creaking groan he used to hate, and steps inside and calls out, "Rachel? Santana?"

Only silence greets him, and he turns to look around. There's an unopened envelope on the table with the shallow bowl where they throw their keys and mail, addressed to him, and a white poster. His face is emblazoned across it, the word  _MISSING_  in bright red letters above the picture, and the text beneath detailing his appearance and offering a reward for any information leading to his discovery. Opening the invitation, he turns over the stiff card embossed with silver and reads the details of the wedding he's been invited to, the reason no one is home.

And he leaves. Takes a key and locks the door tight, in case Cody thinks to start looking for him. And he starts to run, faster than any human, impossibly fast, the surroundings all a blur. He'll run all the way home because he has to, he needs to see everyone, all those people who love him and need to know that he's alive and he'll come home one day. He runs, and his lets his mind blur too, so all that's left in the knowing that he needs to get home, and the love he felt in that dream. It's a beautiful thing, after so long in the dark, to finally see the light again.

Hours go by, marked only by the gloomy day, the clouds covering the sun that could hurt him. He never thought of that, he just wanted to leave, get as far away as possible. But Cody lied to him so much, and all the dangers he warned of could've been lies too. But he knows he can't run forever, because he hasn't eaten in several days, and he feels like he might collapse, his stomach a gaping hole at the centre of him. He can't just run on empty, vampires can starve too, and he doesn't want to be found dead at the side of the road. He wants to go home.

He's run far enough to make it to the outskirts of Ohio, and the small blood bank, with its discreet badge of government approval and heavy doors, is lit up like a beacon, as the day drifts into evening and more vampires will start to emerge from their home. Looking through the reinforced, bulletproof glass, he can see the man working the desk, and practically falls through the door. His clothes are smeared with dirt, and wet from the rain, and the collar of his shirt is spotted with bloodstains, and he knows that he looks every inch the monster people consider him to be, eyes dark with hunger and fangs dropped. He can't hold this side of him back when he's this desperate.

Collapsing on the counter, he whimpers out, "Please help me," to the man. There's nervousness in his face, an edge to his eyes, and when Kurt looks around he can see the guns and the tasers and the bottles, all the measures that humans take against his kind, in case one goes into a bloodlust and gets violent. "I'm sorry to barge in like this, but I need something now, or I'll keel over."

"It's quite alright, sir, we're here to help," the man says, and Kurt glances at his name tag to see  _Peter_  there, a simple name and one he doesn't know. "If you could just give me your official government-issued identification card, I'll be able to give you a few blood bags and send you on your way. Do you have a preferred type?"

Clutching at the edge of the counter to stay upright, Kurt forces out the words, "I don't actually have an identification card. I was kidnapped by the man who turned me, please just give me something and I'll never come back.  _Please_."

"Sir, by law I can't serve anyone without their official identification card to prove they've registered and are not an offender," Peter says, and Kurt stretches across the counter desperately. The man jumps away, and snatches a taser down from the wall, pressing the switch so it buzzes threateningly with electricity. "Sir, I'm going to have to ask you to step away, or I will trigger the warning alarm and you'll go into the system."

"Peter!" Another voice, shrill and angry, and Kurt looks towards the source to see a woman there, with a kind face and fury flashing in her eyes. "Peter, the law states that in cases of abuse by other vampires we are allowed to supply blood as long as we take a certain amount of details. And I would say that this one has clearly been abused." Lifting up the barrier, she takes Kurt's hand and heaves him upright. "What's your name, honey? How old are you? When were you turned?"

"I'm Kurt," Kurt says, his voice weak and strained. It feels like he has to force out every word, and he's barely aware of his surroundings as the woman - Millie, according to her nametag - helps him into a back room, and lets him sit down on an impossibly soft chair. "I'm nineteen. I was turned about eight weeks ago, just before Christmas."

Turning back to him, Millie smiles comfortingly and hands him a blood bag, a straw already piercing the plastic casing. "Get that down you, and we can talk some more when you're not on the verge of collapsing," she says gently, nudging his hand encouragingly. "I tell you, honey, it's a good thing you came to us when you did. Breaks my heart to see vampires who couldn't get what they needed dying needlessly. And it's good I was here, that Peter is far too jumpy to really be working here. Doesn't believe in your rights like I do, he'd see all of you locked up if he could. Sends at least one into the system every month, and terrible things happen to them in there. Couldn't bear to see an innocent thing like you there." Petting Kurt's shoulder as he gulps desperately, she asks, "Feeling better? Want to talk about your situation?"

"I was turned by someone I'd only just met, and I hadn't consented, and he brainwashed me," Kurt says, staring down at his lap as his eyes go glassy with tears. "Turned me against all my friends, made me believe that they wanted me dead, lied to me every day. I finally remembered who I was today, and I ran. I couldn't stay there." He rolls up the hem of his shirt, and Millie gasps when she sees the bite marks. "He did this to me. There are so many of them. And he only brought me blood every two or three days. He liked me being dependent on him."

"God, some of them are unhinged," she says, and offers another blood bag. "Take it, honey, get your strength back up. You'll heal faster." Shifting in her seat, she says, "You know, I never thought I'd be doing this. My day job is a dinner lady, I've got no medical training. But this came up, three nights a week, and I need the money too badly to pass up a job. Seems they need a mother around here, to show some sympathy to the scared young ones that pass through. None of these trained professionals know how to do that, they're too busy looking for a reason to ring the alarm. So where are you headed?"

"A wedding," Kurt says, smacking his lips as he finishes sucking the bag dry, his hunger slowly becoming sated after weeks of always aching with it. "Two of my high school teachers, I was invited and all my friends will be there. I want to see them all and show them that I'm alive. My family too."

Millie's eyes go wide, and she splutters out, "My God, you're Kurt  _Hummel_. My daughter, Marley, she's in glee club. It's been in turmoil for the last two months, ever since your friends called around everyone looking for you, and then called to say you were missing and the only lead was your blood on the bed. She's been telling me all these things, with people coming home in case you came here, and Blaine being just distraught. She says he's been losing weight, and hasn't been coming to school all the time, and crying a lot. They'll all be so pleased to have you back."

"Please don't tell Marley about this," Kurt pleads, and there are suddenly tears in his eyes, his voice thick with emotion. "I don't want them to know, I don't want anyone to know. I don't want to be this way, I never wanted it, and they can't know. What if they shun me? I couldn't handle that."

Taking his hand in hers, Millie smiles and says, "Research is getting better every day. So many hospitals and doctors are becoming so much more liberal, looking into treating this and reversing the effects. There's been six reversals during the transformation since you were turned, research into why the time to turn is different for every case, and an attempt to extend the research so those who have already been changed can be turned back. Turning is so rarely consensual, after all, and no one wants miserable people forced to live forever wandering around. A bit more time, honey, and they might be able to change you back. Medicine moves so fast these days, it could be a matter of months." She reaches behind her, into the filing cabinet, and pulls out a form. "It's such ugly business, but since I've served you and you don't have identification, I need to have you fill these out, for legal purposes. It's just basic information, like your name and place of residence and an emergency contact. It's all confidential, I promise."

Kurt fills the form out, barely even reading the neatly typed and formatted text. Millie smiles and presses the red stamp to the corner of the paper, and puts a few more blood bags into a brown paper one, twisting the top and waving off Kurt's weak protest. "You're going to need it, and I'm sure you don't want to be feeding from your friends," she says, and Kurt shudders at the very thought, stomach turning. "And one more thing." She slips away, and returns with a sweater folded up in her hands. "Sometimes vampires are attacked, and come here because there are so few shelters that accept them. If you want to hide what happened from your family, this will cover up your bite marks. And keep you warm, it's cold tonight."

Taking it with a grateful smile, Kurt walks out of the clinic, pulling the sweater over his head. It's a soft brown, warm and reminiscent of home, and it smells sweet and it covers him from the chin down, hiding all the scars. And a smile can hide the scars on his mind, as he starts to run again, beneath the cover of nightfall, the stars winking in the sky and the moon illuminating his way.

* * *

Standing at the end of the driveway, Kurt stares at the lit windows, the blue-painted door with the silver knocker, the trees that grow in the garden and the weeds pushing bravely up through the paving stones. He can see silhouettes passing in front of windows, and wraps his arms around himself as he walks slowly up to the door, pulling the long sleeves down over his shaking hands. Knocking three times, he steps back and listens to the sound of footsteps, trying to smile, to pin on that mask so no one will knows how miserable he really is.

The door doesn't open to one of his family though, and Puck's jaw drops open like it's on a hinge when he sees Kurt. Smiling weakly, Kurt tries to step inside, but Puck's arm blocks him. "Burt!" he yells, not taking his wide eyes off Kurt, like he's afraid he might disappear if he looks. "Carole! Finn!"

Running feet sound on the floor, and Carole comes into view first, looking drawn and tired and worried, as if she hasn't slept in days for fretting. The glass in her hand crashes to the floor and she pushes Puck aside to wrap her arms around Kurt, bringing him close to her and rocking him gently, as if he's just a baby. He feels impossibly young, seeing her again, and clings to her, familiar warmth and floral perfume and soft clothes.

"Oh my God," comes a voice, and Kurt lets Carole go, eyes wet with tears, and smiles when he sees Finn standing in the kitchen, staring at him and nothing else, like he's the only thing in the entire world. "Kurt. Where the  _hell_  have you been?!"

Carole reaches up to put a hand on Finn's shoulder, but he shakes her off. Her voice is incredibly soothing as she says, "Come on, honey, it's okay. We've got him back, this is what we wanted, it's all going to be fine."

"No, mom, it's not  _okay_ , it's not  _fine_!" Finn shouts, and Kurt backs away as his stepbrother moves towards him, face set in a scowl. "Where have you been for two months, Kurt? Why no contact? Do you have any idea what you've put us all through? Rachel had to take a leave of absence from school, she was so upset! Blaine wanted to quit glee club, and for a week straight I had to drive round to his house every morning and literally force him to get up and get dressed and eat and go to school! Puck came back from LA to be here in case you showed up when the three of us were out! Mr. Schue cried when he wrote that wedding invitation for you! Miss Pilsbury has been grief counselling Tina for weeks, she cried for a week straight when we heard from Santana! How could you do this to all of us?"

Staring at his brother, eyes wide, Kurt glances down at the backs of his hands, slender blue veins rising like worms against his chalky skin, and mumbles, "I'm sorry."

"Sorry just isn't good enough, Kurt!" Finn yells, and grabs Kurt by the arms, dragging him closer, his voice going dangerously quiet. "Sorry won't bring back the Christmas we all lost gathered around the phone, desperately hoping it would ring! Sorry won't help Blaine gain back all the weight he lost! Sorry won't stop me from leaving bed in the middle of the night to find Santana looking through photos from glee club and crying in the armchair! Sorry won't help me to just let go of the fact that for two months I thought my brother was...was..." His voice goes silent eerily fast, trailing into a shuddering gasp and nothing more.

"It wasn't my choice, Finn," Kurt says quietly, trying to remain in control even as he feels the reins slipping from his grasp. "I was forced into it, you have no idea what I've been through these last few weeks. It's been awful for me too, but I'm so so sorry that I put everyone through that. I'll see them all tomorrow, I can show them I'm okay and I'm  _sorry_."

Quite suddenly, Finn dissolves into tears, and Kurt reaches out for him, tears in his own eyes. "I thought you were dead," Finn says, his voice now barely more than a whisper, all the rage instantaneously drained from him like air from a balloon. "I thought my own brother was dead and I would never see him again. I thought I'd never get to see you again, Kurt. I was so scared." He wraps Kurt into a tight hug, just like in Kurt's dream, and Kurt clings to him, tears starting to stream down his cheeks in earnest.

"What do you mean, that you were forced into it?" The voice is gruff with emotion, steady on the surface but with the sense of an immense swell of emotion hidden beneath the forced smoothness, one that's familiar, from stories when he couldn't sleep and soothing reassurance when he was ill and singing with him in the car to all the songs they both knew. Face already tear-streaked, eyes red-rimmed and starting to swell, Kurt pulls away from Finn and turns to face his father.

"Dad," he sobs out, and is in those familiar arms, losing himself in the strong embrace, feeling so small and lost, a child who needs his father's hand to guide him home. "He told me you were dead." He clings on even tighter, that black terror washing over him like ice-cold water, thinking he was alone in the world except for a man who only seemed to see him as a possession.

"Who told you that, sweetie?" Carole asks softly, and Kurt slowly becomes aware that the four people around him are all staring. He shifts nervously, desperately hoping they can't see the scars and wounds that pattern his skin, a maze of raised scars fading from angry red to white and punctures still splashed with dry brown blood. "What happened to you? Where have you been? Please tell us, sweetie. You can trust us."

Reeling back from his father, Kurt stands and stares at his family, Puck still gazing at him as if he's a ghost, eyes wide and skin pale. He just wants to tell them, the truth swirling in his head, shifting and pulsating and clawing at his dry throat, but he can't let them know. They'll look at him in fear, revulsion, anger, look at him as the monster that his nature forces him to be. He'd lose this home, this family, these friends - everything blown up in smoke. "What time is the wedding tomorrow?" he asks softly, and he can see the disappointment in their eyes. "I'm sorry. I just don't want to talk about it. I think I just want to go to bed."

Finally, they nod, and Kurt drifts upstairs. His room is exactly the way he left it when he moved to New York - boxes pushed back against the wall, each one labelled, everything he wanted to keep but couldn't afford to fill their limited apartment space with. The bed is neatly-made, the curtains drawn, and the room is as still as the grave. It's as if they've kept it as a memorial to a child who died. Curling up in the bed, Kurt is overwhelmed by nostalgia, by a longing to come home and hide here for the rest of his forever. To be a child again, no longer worried by anything more than bedtime or the far-off prospect of Christmas or a birthday.

A soft knock comes at the door, and it cracks open for Finn to slide carefully inside, sitting on the end of the bed at Kurt's feet, and giving him a small, tremulous smile. "We were talking about meeting up for brunch before we have to be at the church tomorrow, but we won't go if you don't want to," he says quietly. "I'll just make some excuse and give you a ride there."

"No, you go be with everyone," Kurt says quietly, staring at the backs of his hands again. He doesn't want to admit it, but he doesn't feel like he should be with them, celebrating. He doesn't belong with them. Not anymore. "I'll just drive myself there."

"If you're sure," Finn says, and Kurt nods firmly. "Okay. We're to be there by one thirty at the latest, for the start at two. But everyone will probably be there a lot earlier than they need to be, so all of us can talk and catch up. It's been a while since some of us saw each other." Almost immediately, he flushes an ugly, blotchy red, and says, "I...I didn't mean that about you."

"It's okay." Rolling onto his side and staring at the wall, Kurt closes his eyes against the emerging sheen of tears when he feels Finn's weight lift from the bed, and hears the soft  _snick_  of the door closing. But then comes the sound of feet scuffing nervously against the carpet, and Finn gently says, "Kurt, please. We've all been so worried about you. Can't you tell us anything? Anything about what happened? I'm your brother, you can tell me."

"I'm sorry, Finn," Kurt says, his voice muffled into his pillow, trying not to let the tears in his eyes shake his voice. "I can't." Finn sighs heavily, and Kurt hears the door close. Rolling onto his side, he lets the tears slide down across the bridge of his nose and his cheeks, staring at the wall. Alone in the darkness, with only his own breathing for company, he forces his head deep into the pillow, hoping to find oblivion.

* * *

Winter sunlight is spilling weakly across the sprawling day, frost hanging on the windows like spider webs as Kurt moves around the room that was once so familiar, feeling out of place, like an incongruous shadow. For the first time, he notices things that might have frightened his family last night, that could still frighten the friends he'll reunite with today - how fragile he looks, even to his own eyes, only skin and bone like he might snap in two if squeezed too hard; and the bites exposed by every outfit he tries, the yellowing bruises on his neck and arms, until he gives up and sits on the edge of the bed, staring down at the stain on the carpet where he once knocked an illicit glass of wine over during a sleepover with Rachel and Mercedes.

The pounding water of the shower scalds away some of the aches in his bones, but it can't do much for his painfully pounding heart, still breaking even when he should be healing. Because he knows this is only temporary. He'll have to go back, or Cody will come after him. And he can't risk the lives of any of these people who mean the world to him. One of his scabs cracks open, a slender crimson waterfall trickling down his thigh, and he stares at it with a morbid curiosity. It stings as he rubs the soap into each wound, and the twinges of pain are like the heavy breaths he drags in - they remind him he's alive.

Finally, he leaves the house, Burt and Carole fluttering around him like anxious birds, making sure he's going to be okay and he feels up to it and he's sure he doesn't want to just stay inside. Tugging at the collar of his black turtleneck, he carefully adjusts the pin, a small yellow bird with a glowing black eye. It reminds him of Blaine, and of happiness, and he tries to wear a seemingly effortless smile, practicing what he might say as he pulls into the hotel parking lot, flicking a piece of lint from his shoulder and following the crowd up to the doors.

All his old friends are assembled in the main room, with its dramatically soaring ceiling and the flowers arranged, permeating everything with their sweet scent, waiting for a couple to promise themselves to each other. Familiar faces, drawn and nervous, all bearing the heavy weight of worry and of loss. His throat feels like sandpaper, shredding like wet paper, as he hoarsely calls out, "Hi guys."

Rachel turns to look first, her face alight with hope, and her eyes go instantly glassy with tears when she sees Kurt. As she walks towards him, outstretched hand trembling, he notices the way her sleeves flap around her slender wrists, that her pulled-back hair emphasises sharper cheekbones, and that there are pale lines like cracks in her foundation, carved out by tears slipping down her cheeks. "You're alive," she whispers, snatching a handful of his sweater up in her fist, as if making sure that he isn't an illusion, wishful thinking, a manifestation of desperate hope. "Kurt, you're  _here_! What...I... _how_?"

Images of pain and fear and twinges of hatred and running and tears and hunger flash through Kurt's mind, an endless reel of suffering, and he settles for answering, "Let's just say I wanted to come back home." Rachel lets out a sob and falls into his arms, clinging to him. Emerging from the knot of shocked onlookers, Santana starts running when Kurt holds out an arm, her heels clacking on the wooden floor, and the three of them end up tangled into a knot of affection, of trust and reunion and desperate joy to be back together, clinging on as if their lives depend on it.

And then he hears the voice that he's been waiting to hear, the one he thought about when he ran all those miles alone beneath the drifting clouds and weak sunlight, so reverent as Blaine simply whispers his name. That's all. Just his name. But it has Kurt letting go of both women, who move away respectfully, and turning to face Blaine. Blaine, his pale skin a stark contrast to his dark suit - as if he's in mourning - and his hair slicked down into something that resembles a helmet - the way he always tries to control one thing when the world is spiralling out of his control - and his hands shaking with nerves. His body is hidden by his suit, but when he moves Kurt can see the way the material moves with no friction, clearly too big for him.

They fall into each other's arms as if they rehearsed it, like it was choreographed to the second and they've spent days learning it until the steps are instinct. Kurt can feel how thin Blaine has gotten, how fragile he is as his shoulders shudder and heave beneath Kurt's soothing hands, how his grip is still as strong as iron and far more lasting. He never wants to let go, burying himself over and over again in the warmth that spills from Blaine's skin, the scent of his cologne and shampoo, the soft, silky material of his suit and the smoothness of the bowtie tied tightly at the hollow of his throat. "I love you so much," comes a quiet voice, and Kurt is shocked to realise that it's his own, humming through the air like a hornet.

Loosening his grip a little, lifting his chin from Kurt's shoulder to look into his eyes, the long tear tracks like glowing scars on his skin, Blaine smiles and inclines his head a little, colour creeping back into his pale cheeks. "I love you too," he says softly, and it's all Kurt can do not to kiss him right there and then, toss aside all his promises to himself that he wouldn't let the situation get out of hand. He has to stay in control, or everything could fall apart like a house of cards catching a gentle breeze.

But everyone wants to talk to him. He's the star, bigger than the bride or groom, the one person everyone wants to see and hear and touch. These crowds are like a firing squad, throwing questions at him as haphazardly as bullets:  _Where were you? What were you doing? Who were you with? Why didn't you contact anyone? How did you get here?_  It starts to make him feel dizzy, the voices yelling on every side, high and low and raucous, pounding in his ears like a frantic pulse that he can't feel anymore. Not now, now his heart is dead and cold and shrivelled, and he craves the night and the quiet and the blood he can sense pulsing through people all around him, warm and sweet and tempting. Escaping outside, briefly, he drinks down a blood bag he hid in the inside pocket of his coat and feels a little more human, a little more in control of his own instincts.

Rachel tugs him into the seat between her and Santana when he joins the party again, a small smile on her painted lips. "We hoped you might come," Santana hisses, looping her arm through his as she slides into her seat, leaning in close to him and pressing, as if worried he might float away without her weight to tie him down. "We left the door to the apartment unlocked, and your wedding invite there." She looks up at Kurt, eyes bloodshot from crying and lack of sleep, and she lowers her voice to ask, "What  _really_  happened?"

Shaking his head, mute, Kurt leans back in his seat and tries to enjoy the wedding, to let the excitement humming like electricity in the air fill him up, but he simply can't. His mind is spinning with worries and fears, too big to let go of, and every time he hears the door open he can't bear to turn and look, terrified that Cody has come after him, found him, and the next thing he hears will be the desperate screams of the people he rips apart to reach Kurt.  _I'm coming to find you, my darling_.

It's all in his head, it's all in his head, but no matter how many times he reassures himself of that, looks to every side and knows that no one else can hear that chilling voice, he still trembles, clasping his hands together to hide their shaking.  _I'll find you, darling. You can't hide from me. No one is going to come between us._

Trapped in his own mind, in cold fear, Kurt tries to feel instead. Rachel and Santana, either side of him, both holding onto him in some way, the scent of their perfume and the soft material of their dresses. Straightening in his seat, he looks sideways, to Blaine, sitting beside Tina and Sam. Leaning forward to meet his eyes, Blaine smiles in that way that just seems to light up the world, and Kurt smiles back, dizzyingly overwhelmed by crazy, heartbreaking, all-encompassing, mountain-moving love.  _You're wrong._  He spits it into his mind, where he can feel Cody lingering, a darkness that blots out the light, like poison coiling through his joy.  _I won't let you hurt them. I don't love you._

The moment he says that, firm and concise and sure of himself, pain tears through him, agony that grips him tight. Music is swelling up, the wedding march that should welcome Emma to her waiting groom, but every head in the room whips to look at him. Rachel and Santana are both shaking him, but their voices sound far-away and distorted, as if they're screaming as he drowns, and Will is stopping the music, running towards him. Black wavering at the edges of his vision, Kurt coughs out, " _Blaine_ ," as he feels himself slithering to the floor, losing all grip on reality.

Though he wakes only a few minutes later, the entire proceedings have come to a halt around him. He's no longer lying between the pews, but between the aisles, and someone is frantically flapping a prayer book over his face, wafting him periodically with cool air. "I'm fine," he says hoarsely, but when he tries to sit up a dozen voices clash together, urging him to stay still.

"Should we call an ambulance?" Sugar asks, finally halting her flapping and holding her prayer book against her chest, nervously looking down at him. Thinking about what hospitals would mean - being found out, forced to register as this  _monster_ , no longer being able to hide this shame from his family and friends - Kurt shakes his head frantically, and sits up despite the protests.

"I just need some air," he says slowly, and takes the hand Blaine offers to heave himself upright. "Sorry for interrupting." Straightening his clothes, he walks briskly out into the cold day, tugging his clothes tighter around him and looking out at the pale grey clouds, the frost clinging to every car, slumping down onto a bench and burying his face in his hands, trying not to cry or panic. But he's trembling so hard he feels as if he might shake right out of his own skin, and his breath is coming in shuddering rasps, and his eyes are prickling hot with tears. He's never been so scared as he is knowing that Cody is going to come after him, a monster he watched murder someone for having the audacity to remind Kurt a little of his old life, a monster who no doubt killed the family who once lived in that house that became a prison cell, a monster who will tear out the throats of everyone he cares about just to get to him.

The sound of footsteps, muffled by the layer of snow lying like carpet over the ground, makes Kurt jump, and he waits for the pain to explode through him, for that silken voice that sends shudders of revulsion down his spine - an effect made all the worse by the knowing that a mere few days ago that voice would've made his smile grow with love and his eyes soften with affection. But it never comes, and he looks up from staring at the dark fabric stretched over his knees to Blaine's drawn, worried face. "Are you okay?" he asks softly, and the warmth of his body, the comforting closeness when he sits down to Kurt, how familiar and safe and reassuring he is, it all makes Kurt shake his head, curling even further into himself. "Kurt, what's really been going on? You disappear on the same night as you have some stranger in your apartment, there's no sign of you except for a few drops of blood for eight weeks, and then when you do appear you start screaming and collapse out of nowhere, and when you heard me coming you looked like I was some murderer."

"He tricked me." Kurt's voice is almost a mere breath, small and shy and scared. "I really thought he  _liked_  me. I was so desperate for someone to want me. And I let him, I just let him, but then he tricked me. And he made me go with him. He made me think that you and Rachel and Santana were all against me, and my dad was dead. He made me fall in love with him, because he was the only person I had left in the world. And then I remembered."

Blaine just stares at him, eyes round and shocked, and the warmth of his hand is like a bolt of electricity against Kurt's frozen skin. "How?" he asks softly. "This is the guy Rachel and Santana suspected, right?" Kurt nods miserably, and Blaine squeezes his hand tightly, reassuringly. "So what happened?"

Staring at him, feeling sudden twinges of pain tugging at every scar and wound on his body, Kurt momentarily wants to lie, think quickly on his feet and come up with some excuse. Anything to keep the world from finding out the truth about what he is. But, with one look at Blaine's earnest face, all his concern and his love obvious, he can't simply let the lies fall from his lips. Blaine deserves the truth. "He turned me," he says quietly. It's out there, an anxious buzzing in the still air, Blaine gaping as Kurt tugs his collar down to expose the two marks on his neck, neat circular silvery scars that betray what he is to the world.

"You're a vampire." It's so quiet, but it could be a crack of thunder rolling across the skies for the jolt it puts through Kurt, seeming to shake the very earth beneath his feet. Blaine is still staring, and he catches a flicker of something like disgust across his eyes, and he feels hot with shame. It's what he always feared, the very definition of what he's become on Blaine's lips, the way he's staring at him like this is the worst thing he could possibly have done. "Kurt, I...I don't know what to say."

Blaine turns his gaze away from Kurt, looking down at the frost-silvered ground, and Kurt stares at him interlocked fingers as he miserably says, "This is what I was afraid of. That the people I love, the people who love me, would abandon me. I know what I am. A  _monster_." Turning to look at Blaine, he desperately adds, "But I didn't want it. I didn't ask for it. You have to believe me, Blaine. He..." The tears climb up his throat quickly, like claws digging into tender flesh, and he clings to the hand Blaine offers, an anchor as he starts to cry, words sharp and broken. "He just bit me, and tied me up and left me there. And then I changed, and he called me and he told me awful things, that everyone I'd ever loved was against me and my dad was dead and he was the only one I could trust. Then he..."

As Kurt trails off into small sobs, Blaine grips his hand tighter and softly says, "You don't have to tell me anything." Scrubbing at his cheeks with the end of his sleeve, Kurt starts when Blaine's fingers brush against his neck, hot enough to burn against his icy skin, gently rolling his collar back over the scars and rising to cup his cheek. "It doesn't matter to anyone where you've been or who you've been with or what you've been doing. All we care about is that you're here and you're alive. Because we love you." He lowers his eyes from Kurt's, twists his cufflinks anxiously, and says, "It's been so awful, Kurt. First a call asking if I'd seen you, and I had to say I hadn't even spoken to you for a week. Then a call saying you were missing, and the only lead was blood. I was so scared you were dead, and I'd never get another chance to see you or touch you or tell you how sorry I am-"

"Don't," Kurt interjects quietly, an exquisite kind of pain piercing right through him at the memory. "Just don't. I want this to be a happy place and a happy night for me." With a pathetic attempt at a smile, he tries to joke, "Besides, being kidnapped and imprisoned and abused and starved really puts being cheated on in perspective. Not to mention the constant fear that everyone I love is going to abandon me because I've been turned into this monster." He looks down at himself in revulsion, choking on another sob.

"Kurt." Blaine squeezes his hand again, and finally says, "I don't care who or what you are. This doesn't change anything. I love you, in any form. I love you so much, and I can't even tell you how happy I am to see you here. How happy I am that you still love me too."

They seem to fall into the kiss like it's the most natural thing in the world, gravity drawing them together, Blaine's hand curling into the material of Kurt's blazer to pull him close and Kurt's fingers wrapped around the back of Blaine's neck. He wants to cling to this feeling forever, the electricity and the warmth and how alive and safe and  _loved_  he feels, knowing that Blaine's heart is pounding and conjuring up the memory of how it felt to have his heart flutter at the slightest touch, remembering love.

A heavy sigh, and long-suffering voice says, "Guess we should've known." Breaking away from Blaine, glancing with pride at his flushed cheeks and shining eyes, Kurt turns to look at Mercedes, wrapped up in someone's too-big coat and looking at him with an expression that makes it clear she's seconds away from rolling her eyes. "If you two are finished reuniting, the ceremony is over, and we're going to start the reception party soon. Speeches, then dancing. Seriously, you better come join us."

She disappears back into the hotel, shaking her head as she leaves, and Kurt can't help a small smile. "She hasn't changed at all," he remarks, and Blaine laughs softly, bright eyes still staring at Kurt like he can't quite believe what's happened. "I suppose we should go join them. I do want to get a chance to talk to them for a while."

They help each other up from the bench, sliding up the icy slope back to the hotel doors and following the sound of raucous laughter and the clink of glass on glass to the side room with the dance floor and the tables arranged around it in a neat circle, joined together by the stage where Finn is holding court in his role as best man. Taking the empty seat between Santana and Rachel, feeling the weight of their worry descend on him immediately, Rachel leaning against him and Santana brushing her foot against his beneath the table, Kurt just smiles around the large flower arrangement at Blaine.

As the music starts, Quinn immediately asks Kurt to dance, and she smiles as the two of them are some of the first to join Will and Emma. "How have you been?" Kurt asks, before she can ask him anything. "Any big events I should know about?"

"I assume you know that Santana almost immediately moved in with Rachel," Quinn says, shaking her head in disbelief. "I talked to her one day about college, and the next thing I knew she'd dropped out and moved into the loft and was talking about going to NYADA dance classes. She's crazy." Dropping her head onto Kurt's shoulder, she says, "Nothing momentous has really happened. Puck's dating Kitty now. That's about it." Grinning, she remarks, "We've calmed down from the days of a new relationship every week," and Kurt laughs.

The night drifts lazily on, the music slowing down and speeding up and the lights going from bright as sunlight to simulating the moonlit night pressing against the windows. Couples drift together and drift apart, everyone dancing and talking with everyone, and sneaking drinks from the bar when no one's looking. The buffet is demolished, the flowers start to wilt in their vases or move to buttonholes and hair, and even the music seems to start falling asleep, slow and sweet and smooth. Letting Mercedes drift back to a grinning Sam, Kurt feels Blaine's presence before he evens turns around to slide easily into familiar arms, swaying on the spot to the gentle melody swirling around the room.

"You know you have a room, right?" Blaine asks, and Kurt shakes his head, wondering if he's reading the teasing lilt to Blaine's voice correctly. "Just go to the reception and tell them you're with the Schuester-Pilsbury wedding and they'll give you a room key. He got rooms for everyone, thinking we'd probably want to keep the party going." Shifting closer, he murmurs, "I just thought you might want to escape the crowds. I could keep you company."

As the song slips easily into a closing note, Kurt bends his head to kiss Blaine, sliding his arms tighter around that slender waist, a frisson of desire skittering down his spine as Blaine's body crushes hotly against his. Leading him by the hand, talking and tasting through the tips of their fingers, Kurt takes the keycard from reception and they ascend the stairs in content silence. The room is dark, the bed neatly made, and Kurt smiles softly at Blaine, sliding his blazer off and draping it over the back of a chair, hanging the  _DO NOT DISTURB_ sign on the door.

Blaine's hands scald his skin, and Kurt almost expects to look down and see blistering burns, see some evidence of the way Blaine's touch sears right through him, making him feel warm even though there's no flow of blood to make him blush and his heart doesn't start to pound. Shedding his own blazer, Kurt shivers as familiar fingers trace his collar and down his sweater, tugging gently at the hem like a question. A kiss is all that's needed, a silent acquisition, and Blaine tosses the sweater aside, warm fingers playing down Kurt's chest, against his translucent skin. Remembering too late that his body has become a canvas of scars, Kurt reaches to cover himself, but Blaine's fingers clamp around his wrist like a handcuff, stopping him.

"You're beautiful," he promises, words a mere breath, and Kurt smiles gratefully into a soft, sweet kiss. Stroking his thumbs across Kurt's sharp cheekbones, Blaine pushes him backwards to sit on the end of the bed, kissing the scar on Kurt's neck where he was first bitten. As he sinks to his knees on the worn carpet, he continues to kiss each and every scar, and Kurt's back arches and his lips part in breathy moans, even as tears spring to his eyes at how reverently Blaine touches him, kisses him, breathes him in like the finest cologne. Pressing his forehead against Kurt's stomach and dragging in a shuddering breath, Blaine murmurs, "God,  _Kurt_."

Tears trickling down his cheeks, joy and love overwhelming him and pressing on his chest, clenching at his heart, Kurt pulls Blaine up into a messy, desperate kiss. "I know, sweetie," he breathes into Blaine's shoulder, undressing him as slowly and carefully as he can with his trembling hands. "I  _know_." Laying Blaine out on the sheets, that familiar body sprawled out for the taking, Kurt smiles and kisses Blaine's raised knee, working his way slowly up the soft skin of his thigh. "I love you."

"I love you too," Blaine says, voice quivering with want, and Kurt undresses himself, curling up to lay his head on Blaine's chest, listening to his pounding heart. It feels so real, and when he thinks about what happened between him and Cody, it doesn't even compare. Like Dorothy, he's stepped from a dreary grey world into glorious technicolour - a love that's real and eternal and passionate. But unlike her, he doesn't need red slippers and he doesn't want to go back to his Kansas. Everything he needs is curled up against him, heat spilling from sweet-scented skin and long eyelashes fluttering, cheeks flushed and eyes glazed with desire.

Kissing comes naturally, the slick sound of lips meeting and their heavy breathing filling the room, the whisper of skin on skin as Kurt rolls on top of Blaine, sliding his arms tightly around him. Both of them are as fragile as glass, like leaves snatched up in the wind, but they anchor themselves to each other, holding on so tight they might never let go. Staring down at Blaine with a clear mind, without hunger or bloodlust or a fog of false memories to cloud his perception of the world around him, all Kurt can see is his gilded beauty. He sees the tears that spill down his cheeks and leave trails slashed across his skin that gleam in the light above them, how warm and soft he is beneath Kurt's caressing fingers, the overwhelming familiarity of his scent and his quiet breathy noises, the way his body writhes beneath Kurt's, straining against him with increasing desperation for every moment that Kurt draws it out, clinging to the moment. "What are you taking so much time over?" Blaine asks, voice rough and expression as affronted as it can be with his flushed cheeks and glazed eyes.

Kissing Blaine's neck, rubbing his cheek against the rough stubble starting to pebble his jaw, Kurt mumbles, "I don't want it to be over." Glancing up at Blaine to gauge his reaction, he sees a mask of sympathy descending, and sniffs hard, blinking back tears. "I know I can't stay. Staying would put everyone's lives in danger. I just want tonight to last forever. I don't want to suffer anymore."

Taking Kurt's face between his hands, Blaine kisses him and says, "You don't have to go back. We can call people, the police, and we can get him taken in for what he's done to you. Who knows what he might do if you go back after running away?" He clings tight, betraying for a moment his absolute need, and whispers, "I don't want to lose you again."

Weaving his fingers between Blaine's, Kurt kisses each finger and the warm palms, and smiles as he forcefully says, "I swear to you, Blaine, I'm not leaving permanently. I'll come back when I've fixed things. When leaving won't put everyone I love in danger." They clash together in a fierce kiss, passion like a flame, and when they part Kurt says, "He can't hurt me now. I know who I am and he can't change what I know in my head and my heart. I'm not going to be so vulnerable again."

Another kiss, the most fragile and precious of the night, and the sheets bunch up beneath their entwined bodies, Blaine's legs bracketing Kurt's waist and his fingers twisted tightly into Kurt's hair. They make love in quiet contentment, the bedsprings squeaking gently with each roll of Kurt's hips, his lips buried in Blaine's arched neck, sucking bruises into the tender skin, hands everywhere on sweat-slick skin. "I love you," is whispered over and over again, until it's like a heartbeat in the heat-heavy air, sinking like tattoo ink into their skin. Lost in the silky smoothness of Blaine's skin, Kurt pushes forward one final time and comes with Blaine's name on his lips.

Lying on his stomach in the bed, catching his breath, Kurt feels Blaine's lips on his spine, brushing sweet kisses across his skin, and turns his head to smile into dazed, satisfied eyes. They don't speak again. There's no need for words, only kisses and caresses, and folding into each other to sleep. It's the first time Kurt has fallen asleep so easily in weeks.

* * *

"Stay." Looking back at Blaine, still curled up in bed, soft and warm and beautiful in the weak morning light, Kurt shakes his head, biting his lip to hold back the words that want to flood out of him - how much he doesn't want to leave, or wants Blaine to come with him, how he would stay if he wasn't leaving the lives of his friends and family in the balance. "Kurt. Stay."

"I can't," Kurt says quietly, helpless to do anything but look at the sadness in Blaine's face, the way he clutches the sheets around him as if imagining a human touch. "If I stay, he'll come after me, and then everyone's lives are at risk. I can't put everyone in danger just because it's killing me to leave."

Blaine smiles a little at that, and shifts again. "I just don't want you to go," he says, catching Kurt's eye and flushing slightly. "Last night was...amazing. Perfect. And I can't help thinking that when you leave you'll break the spell, and it'll be the way it was before." Kurt goes to sit next to him, patting his knee reassuringly through the blankets, and Blaine looks at him, his gaze piercing and earnest. "What are we, Kurt? Are we together now?"

Leaning over for one last kiss, Kurt whispers, "I love you." When Blaine pushes him back, one eyebrow raised, demanding an answer, he sighs and says, "We're in love. And I'm...hesitant to put a label on it." Taking Blaine's hand in his, he promises, "When I come back again, we're together. Until then, you know I love you." Helpless, he cups Blaine's cheek for another kiss, tilting their foreheads together and breathing him in, so deep he'll never forget.

Closing the door behind him with a soft  _snick_ , Kurt pauses in the empty, dimly-lit corridor to dab at his tear-glazed eyes, sniffing hard and running a hand through his hair, trying to fix the strands that have undoubtedly gone awry. He starts when he hears another door close, and flattens himself against the wall behind a large potted plant. Peering out, he jumps when a familiar voice rings through the corridor like an alarm clock. "What the fuck?  _Kurt_?"

Stepping out into the open, Kurt lets out an undignified snort when he sees Santana standing in front of him, wearing a complimentary hotel bathrobe, her feet bare. Her make-up is smeared, her hair wild, her dress hanging over one arm and her shoes dangling from her fingertips. It could not be more obvious that she's leaving the scene of a one-night stand. "I didn't think anyone else would be awake yet," Kurt says, and Santana tilts her head at him.

"Are you running out on Blaine?" she asks, and before Kurt can shake his head she's holding her shoe like a weapon, heel pointed at his chest. Almost like a stake. "That's a shitty thing to do, Kurt. At least I woke Quinn up to tell her I wanted to go get into some different clothes."

"I've said goodbye," Kurt says quietly. "To Blaine." As she withdraws her weapon of choice, Kurt sighs, scuffs his foot along the carpet and says, "I have to leave, San."

Like a switch has been pressed, Santana flips instantly from affronted to pleading, dropping her bundle of dress and shoes to wrap her arms around Kurt, as if just holding him tightly could stop him from leaving, "Please don't," she whispers shakily. "We just got you back. You can't be leaving already! Where the hell are you going?"

"I just have to leave," Kurt says with a shrug, and hugs her tightly. "Tell everyone that I had to leave, and I wouldn't if I had a choice. Tell them goodbye for me." Hearing her sniffle, he pulls his emotions back as hard as he can and kisses the top of her head before he snatches up his bag and walks away, footfalls heavy as he descends the stairs and drifts out into the cold day.

Attaching the note he wrote in the earliest hour of the morning, he leaves his bag on the doorstep of his parents' house, knowing someone will find it when they emerge to collect the morning paper. He picks up speed with every step, until he's running as fast as he ran away, back to New York. Back to that prison. Back to Cody. But now he's stronger, he knows who he is and what he wants to be, and he can keep him away. Lock the monster in its cage and refuse to acknowledge it.

Even with taking periodic breaks to drink from his remaining blood bags - he even fears for Millie's life, should Cody ever find out that she helped him to regain his strength - he reaches New York by the time night is falling, the neon lights of the city bright against the black. He can feel all the blood running through him, making his senses sharper and his body thrum with contain strength, feeling stronger than he's ever felt. No one can break through his armour. He expects Cody to leap out for him, to snatch him up and take him back to that terrible place, but the world is a silent as Manhattan ever is around him. No foreboding slow footsteps, no whisper of his name in the night, no hand creeping over his shoulder or around his waist. Simple, silent solitude.

Turning down every side street, following his instincts, tensing every time there's a rustle of leaves or the whine of wind in the narrow alleyways, Kurt eventually finds his way back to the recognisable house. The paint on the door is peeling, chipped, and he can see the window he smashed to escape, covered now by cardboard, one corner of it lifted by the wind. Grinning triumphantly to himself - because he  _has_  to, he has to be proud that he escaped to reassure himself that returning is for the greater good - Kurt opens the door slowly, sliding his shoes off to stay quiet, only the whisper of his feet on the carpet betraying his presence.

The house is eerily silent, every room he peers into empty, until finally he faces the door to the bedroom. Blocking out the thoughts of what transpired in the past, the memory of Cody's fingers on his skin making him feel like he's covered in a layer of dirt, unable to scrub it off, Kurt turns the doorknob and opens it to a pathetic sight - Cody, curled up in the bed in a manner eerily reminiscent of Blaine as Kurt left. He bears no resemblance to the monster Kurt remembers, who remorselessly murdered Adam for merely daring to speak about the outside world, who starved and abused and imprisoned him, who would've killed him for a mere dream about his old life, never mind leaving. He looks like a mere man, perhaps even a child, lost and alone in the world. Searching for something just beyond the reach of his fingertips - for  _Kurt_.

Gripped by fear, Kurt wants to turn around and run, following the roads until they spill into grass, then sand, then the ocean. Endless waters, still and dark and silent, where he can exist forever without being found. But he knows he can't run away, he has to face this down with all the strength he can, or he'll pay the price of running away from his bullies - because that's all Cody is, a bully who wants to keep Kurt knocked down and ashamed so he doesn't have the courage to be himself - with not only his own life, but also those of everyone he cares about. Swallowing hard and audibly, he knocks lightly on the door frame.

Cody's head turns before Kurt's hand is back at his side, hope splashed across his face, and his eyes light up when he sees Kurt. It's all eerily reminiscent of his reunion with his true friends, and it's only by imagining their faces torn apart that he can draw on the strength to politely, coolly, say, "Don't come near me."

As if Kurt had never even spoken, Cody moves quick as a cat, up from the bed and across the room to cradle Kurt's face between his hands, staring down at him reverently, thumbs stroking along cheekbones made sharper by endless hunger, days of nothing but the air between his lips. "You're alive," he says, echoing the sentiments of so many people Kurt spoke to at the wedding, and he hears their voices like a heartbeat in his ears, calling out to him, breathless with joy. "Oh God, darling, I was so worried. I thought those hunters had gotten to you. I know them, they would come out of the darkness with their smiles and bewitch you, take you away and kill you in cold blood. Oh  _Kurt_."

Pushing him away, Kurt stares in shock where Cody goes sprawling across the floor. Flexing his fingers, smiling at his own hidden strength, he spits, "Don't you dare try and feed me those lies! I know what you did. I  _remember_." Now, he feels Cody pushing into his mind, his memories, like probing fingers sliding over his skin, and he shakes his head hard, trying to push him away, force him out with waves of loathing. "Leave me alone!"

Climbing laboriously to his feet, moving cautiously as if he isn't quite sure whether he  _can_  stand, his eyes still wide with shock that Kurt managed to push back, Cody stares at him. Unlike before, his eyes are bright and clear - almost human - and he seems vulnerable. Something about him is different, as if his stitching is coming loose and exposing who he is behind that mask of being Kurt's master, his owner, someone to admire and depend upon in times of struggle. "Don't push me away," he says, soft and pleading. "I'll take care of you. I won't let you get hurt." Kurt shudders with revulsion when Cody's fingers smooth through his hair, touching him so gently, so tenderly. "I love you."

It's terrifying, that for a moment he doesn't see a monster, a man who held him under his power for so long. In that caress, that quiet confession, he sees Blaine, promising forever and truth and passion. Slapping Cody's hand away angrily, he snaps, "I don't love you. And you don't love me!" Before Cody can interrupt him again, he loudly adds, "You don't understand what love is. You can't force me to love you!"

"But I love you," Cody says, his voice tremulous and his fingers shaking, brushing against Kurt's skin gentle as a moth's wing, searching out some pressure point, some way to find the key to his heart. Kurt tries to visualise a suit of armour, one so strong not even the tip of a single finger can work its way into a chink, and watches the hopelessness flood into Cody's eyes. Kurt grits his teeth and turns away when Cody breathes, "I love you, and you're supposed to love me too. That's how it  _works_."

"No it's not!" Kurt screams, and any chance he had of remaining calm is gone in one swift breath, leaking out of him like air from a balloon, fury clenching hotly at his muscles. "If you want me to love you, you have to  _earn_  it! Pulling me away from my friends and my family and the man I really love, making me believe that I had to depend on you because there was no one else for me to turn to, taking me away from the life where I was  _happy_ , that's not going to make me love you!"

"You weren't happy." The quiet statement makes Kurt grind to a halt, rage dissolving into confusion, and Cody looks up at him with the hollow eyes of a man without hope. "I saw you. Before we met, I saw you around. With both of those girls. And even though you were smiling for the children, I could see into your mind, your soul. And you were so sad, so alone, so isolated even when you were surrounded by people. I wanted to make it better for you." He bristles, defensive and guarded, as he quickly adds, "Perhaps I interfered with your mind. I wanted a reason for us to meet. I just wanted to make you happy again. I wanted you to smile at me like it was real." Brushing an errant strand of hair away from Kurt's eyes, ignoring his hand reflexively reaching up to slap him away, Cody murmurs, "I wanted to take your suffering away and make you bright and beautiful again. I saw you one night in a bar, and you looked so happy. So in love. I thought you could look at me like that."

"And you believed that kidnapping and imprisonment and starvation and abuse is the recipe for love?" Kurt snaps, and Cody shrinks at his tone, like a young boy being scolded by a parent. "I wouldn't love you even if you had been kind to me instead of messing with my mind and almost destroying me. I'm in love with someone else. I've loved him for two years, and it's not going to change. He's my forever."

Cody's lips are suddenly on his, knocking the breath from his lungs, and no matter how hard Kurt pushes back or holds still as a rock, unresponsive, he doesn't stop. If anything, Kurt's resistance seems to inspire him, push him to kiss harder and manoeuvre Kurt back towards the bed, both of them toppling over onto the mattress. Kurt fights harder as Cody's hands wander, tracing down the buttons on his shirt, but he can't do anything, hands trapped between their bodies and Cody stronger than him, heavier, holding him down. He can feel that probe in his mind, and it's as if he's watching Blaine's face in front of his, flushed and light with love, morphing into Cody's with that same expression, and he screams when Cody's fingers reach his zipper, shoving back with all the strength he can, to get Cody out of his mind and off his body.

_Fiddling with his hair, he approaches the window still flickering with candlelight, and he can't help but grin when she emerges, leaning over the edge of the wall and smiling down at him sweetly. She beckons silently, and he grins in triumph, almost dancing up the narrow, spiralling stone staircase. Tonight will be the night, she will accept his love for everything it is and then they will marry and begin their forever._

_But when she turns, her beauty is different. Darker. Her eyes are black, shot through with vivid crimson, like blood staining cloth, and when she smiles two fangs glisten in the candlelight. She holds out her arms and he shrinks away, clutching himself in fear. "Do not fear me, my darling," she says silkily. "Just come to me." Her voice is so strong, her presence so intimidating, that he hurries to obey her, stumbling on the rug and falling in diffidence at her feet. "Excellent, pet. You are perfect."_

_His breathing is shallow, but when she takes his hand he remembers the beautiful young woman he fell so wildly in love with, and follows her to the bed. She watches him lie down with the most absorbed expression, and he watches in amazement as she lets her dress slip away from her torso, sitting before him in her fiercely tight corset, silk pooled around her impossibly slender hips. She's the most beautiful woman in the world, the most desirable. Every royal wants to marry her, but she has chosen him, a mere blacksmith. She leans over him, dark hair swinging and lips parted, eyes heavy-lidded with ecstasy, and as she kisses at his chin and his jaw, his pulse fluttering nervously, his hands find her back nervously, clutching her closer._

" _Forever," she whispers in his ear, her voice blending like sweet music with the rustle of their clothes against the bed. She kisses his neck, tongues at the skin, and then he feels pain arc out like moonbeams from two points as her fangs sink into his flesh and she drinks deeply, eyes dark and lips dyed crimson with blood._

Kurt comes reeling back to reality with a sharp gasp, and glances around the room. His shirt is ripped, his jeans unzipped, but Cody isn't on top of him any more. He's sprawled on the floor on the other side of the room, grey with shock, his expression all sadness and longing and wishes that never came true. Despite the fact that he knows he should rein in his curiosity, he shouldn't be concerned with the past stories of a man - a  _monster_  - who treated him as nothing more than a prized possession, something to be toyed and tampered with, Kurt draws his knees up to his chest to cover his bared skin and asks, "What happened?"

Cody stares at him, eyes dull, and his voice is almost robotic as he recounts, "Her name was Octavia. She was widely known as the most beautiful woman in England, and thousands of men sought her hand in marriage. I was the apprentice to the local blacksmith, to help my mother after my father passed, and she came in one day wondering if I could fix the clasp of a precious necklace. I did, and of course she returned often with trivial complaints. I was Edward back then, and it took six months for me to work up the courage to speak to her. We had a rather whirlwind courtship, all in secret, of course, and I fell in love with her. I wanted to marry her and be with her forever. She turned me, promising that it would all be better when I was screaming and in agony, promising our love would last forever. I believed every word and every promise. But she didn't love me. That much is now obvious. I was a means to an end, a way for her to strengthen her power by becoming master over someone. She betrayed me. I fed from her, and one night she screamed and the guards came running. It seemed to be their greatest fear, a heartless vampire attacking an innocent young woman. They chased me with pitchforks and torches, and I hid in a lake for days until they moved on. I left England, and since then I've been a drifter."

"But what happened to her?" Kurt pursues, and Cody looks away from him. "Is she still out there?"

"No," Cody spits, bitter and harsh as if the very words hurt his throat, like a splinter of glass. "She was to marry a German prince, and he saw her in her vampiric state. Drove a stake straight through her heart and killed her instantly. He was hailed as a hero, a vanquisher of evil, and eventually married her younger sister. She was not as beautiful as my Tavia. No one ever has been." He levels his gaze on Kurt, eyes visibly softening. "Until you."

"Stop it!" Kurt says, voice hard as steel once more. "I'm not a replacement for some woman you loved and lost. She didn't love you, and I don't love you. You can't make me into her, you'll never replace the memory of her by tricking people into loving you. I'm sorry that you lost the great love of your life, I really am, but mine is still out there. He loves me too, and I'm not going to give that up. Please just let me leave you. I want to go home. I don't want any part of this. I never did."

Cody turns instantly to a pleading mess, his eyes glazed with tears. "You can't leave me," he whispers desperately. "I love you. I  _need_  you. You have to stay. I'm your Master, and you're just my creation. You can't separate from me, you'll be powerless." Before Kurt can move to escape, there's a scarf tied tightly around his wrists, and Cody looks up as he finishes the knots at his ankles, his eyes knowing and demeanour utterly calm. "You mustn't leave. Only I can protect you from what's lurking out there. There are real dangers, real hunters and other vampires who will snatch kills from under your nose and let you starve before helping you. There is no community in the darkness."

Levelling his gaze with Cody's, Kurt quietly says, "I don't care. I'd rather be out there on my own than be with you." Bound on the end of the bed, he stares up at the dark ceiling as Cody leaves, his footsteps loud on the wooden floors, and he wonders if he'll ever be allowed to leave again. Wonder if he'll see the stars or the sun or the sky, or nothing ever again but these four walls.

He thinks about his family. His friends.  _Blaine_. They all looked at him with such joy, touched him like he wasn't even real, just a daydream born from their fierce hope. The promise he made to Santana and to Blaine, that he would come home when he fixed everything. It's a promise he's going to have to break, and somehow that hurts like a needle piercing his skin, knifing right through him and into his heart. As he shifts his wrists against the slick silk biting into his skin, he thinks that he might never see them again, and that yesterday was like the eye of a hurricane, a brief respite before the wild winds returned to pull him away. He'll never dance with them like he did, he'll never see their smiles whenever he closes his eyes, he'll never kiss or laugh or sing. And it's just as Cody tells him: he's alone in the world. No one can come to save him now.

* * *

Winding the black scarf tightly around his neck, arranging it instinctively to cover the scars - one brand-new and still weeping crimson just beneath his chin - Kurt stares in desolation at the empty mirror. He imagines what he might look like - a victim. Eyes sunken and hopeless, circled with black from long sleepless nights trying not to touch Cody. Thinner than he's ever been, paler than he's ever been, weaker than he's ever been. Lost and alone and crying out for help that never comes. Unable to even rescue himself.

"Beautiful." Kurt turns around to look at Cody, smiling at him with impossibly soft, loving eyes, and hides the shudder that goes through him. In the weeks and days and hours since he returned, he's found it easier to simply obey. Going against Cody leaves him tied up and left to stare at the ceiling for hours, unravelling second by second. "Come, my darling." Ignoring the proffered hand, a small act of defiance that makes him feel a little lighter, Kurt follows Cody out into the night. He contemplates fleeing, but as always, it's only for a second. Then Cody is beside him, and they're running into the city centre, seeking out lonely people stumbling home, the sort of person who would return to their home with little or no memory of the night before. Never connect the odd ache to being the prey of a vampire.

Kissing Kurt's temple softly, brushing his fingers down his side, Cody points to a party of college students, clutching at each other and laughing as they walk along the sidewalk, stumbling into the gutter. "Choose one, beautiful," he whispers, and Kurt resists the urge to slap him. It's much easier to have Cody on his side, teaching him to hunt, than to anger him. Perhaps he could still negotiate some way of getting away from him. But for now, he simply points to a girl in the centre of the party, steadier than some of the others, the lights bright on her hair, and Cody nods approvingly.

Sliding into the darkness, following the path of the night, Kurt slowly follows the group down the sidewalk, keeping to the shadows where he belongs. As luck would have it, the woman he's following breaks away from the group within a few minutes, detouring down one of the narrow alleyways that leads away from the lights and the mayhem, into the dimly-lit streets that he's always warned to avoid. He follows her, footsteps silent as the grave, hardly daring to breathe. He can smell her, the blood pumping through her veins, but it's almost  _wrong_. She doesn't smell the way he's come to know, but it's probably down to consumption of excessive amounts of alcohol.

But when he reaches for her arm, she whips around with impossible, inhuman speed, catching his wrist between her fingers and glaring at him. He reels back in shock, seeing her eyes laced with red, the same colour as his when he's hungry. "What the hell do you think you're doing?" she growls softly, her very tone deadly. Terrifying. "How dare you try to attack me?"

"Oh leave him alone, Dani, the poor thing looks like a newbie," comes another voice, and Kurt freezes when another man lands lightly in front of him, obviously perched on the wall. His brow furrows as he looks at Kurt, eyes flickering up and down, meticulously assessing, and he lets a black backpack slide down from his shoulders, landing on the ground with a soft thump. Unzipping it, he tosses Kurt a blood bag and smiles at him. "Come on, kiddo, don't look so sad. It might never happen."

"It already has," Kurt says miserably, picking the bag open and taking the straw the man offers, gaze flickering back and forth between the woman with her pale hair, brushing herself down and glaring at him, and the man, leaning casually against the wall like he doesn't have a care in the world and gazing at Kurt with a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "I'm sorry, but who are you?"

"Oh, excuse me, where are my manners?" the man says, and the woman rolls her eyes in a long-suffering yet affectionate way. Holding out a hand, he says, "I'm Elliott Gilbert, and she's Dani Brighton. We're both vampires, obviously, and we're a little married. Of course, she ruins it by only liking other women." She laughs, and Kurt smiles slightly as he shakes Elliott's hand. "Who are you, and what are you doing out here looking like you'd like to fall on your own stake?"

"I'm Kurt Hummel," Kurt says quietly, and when Dani's eyes go wide he huffs and says, "Yes, the missing person. It's been a rough few months with my...the man who turned me." Looking at his feet, he glances at them and suddenly finds himself saying, "Can I run away with you?" The words spill out in a rush, before he can really think about what he's saying, and he shakes his head quickly. "Sorry, that was weird. You don't even know me."

"You don't think we'd leave someone like you at the mercy of whoever makes you look this scared?" Dani asks, and reaches to take the empty blood bag from his clutching fingers, smiling comfortingly. "You look thinner than on those posters, and it's really quite worrying. We almost suspected that you'd been turned, but we could never figure out why you'd vanished into thin air. Good to know you're as okay as you can be."

"Kurt?" The call makes Kurt tremble, swallowing hard and donning his imaginary armour. "Kurt, my darling, where are you? Are you ready to move on?" Putting a reassuring hand on his shoulder, Dani nods to Elliott, and almost immediately the joking, charming exterior seems to vanish, leaving a fierce predator in its place. Baring his fangs, eyes flashing crimson in the moonlight, Elliott runs down the alleyway, away from Kurt, and Dani pushes him behind her.

"If he shouts for my help, I'll have to go," she says. "If I have to leave, start running." Squeezing his shoulder a little tighter, she presses into Kurt's mind and leaves an address there, burning bright at the front of his memory. "Go straight there. We have a store of blood bags, and plenty of connections to other friendly vampires in the city, and places to go for help. Whatever he might have told you, there is a community. It's there for anyone who looks for it."

Clinging to her hand, Kurt listens to the sounds of fighting, of pained noises and groans and shouts. A figure looms, and he almost screams, but then Elliott comes running towards them, grabbing their hands and tugging them onwards, until they're running at impossible speeds, the lights around them blurring. "He won't stay down for long," Elliott explains. "Bloody strong, that one. Hope I never come across him again, I'd need to be very angry to ever win." Grabbing Kurt closer, he yelps, "Jump!" in his ear.

It's Kurt's first experience of the true strength he has, flying through the night sky, camouflaged by his dark clothes, and landing lightly on a small balcony. It's eerily reminiscent of the balcony clinging to the side of the loft, and he's overwhelmed by a wave of sadness, longing for that home he's lost. Running a hand through her hair, Dani pulls the key from her pocket and opens the French doors, explaining, "We're fully government registered and the neighbours know, but coming in from the balcony is more fun. Keeps the myth about vampires coming in through the windows alive."

The studio is small, but cosy and more like a home than anything else. Pictures fill the walls, mostly of just Dani and Elliott, but there are some older photos: a woman with Dani's eyes and mouth grinning at the camera, a very pretty redhead looking self-conscious but grinning in a bikini, a black and white photo of Elliott in what appears to be an army uniform, another photo of him with his arm around another man who looks almost familiar. "It's not much, but it's home," Elliott says, hanging his coat and scarf up and giving Kurt a reassuring smile. "Do you want something to eat? We keep a stock, after we registered we managed to sign up to this organisation that delivers a food supply to your door every month, and we can always get more from the banks. We haven't needed to go hunting in a good few years."

"Why take me in?" Kurt asks, and both of them look at him in amazement. He clings on to the ends of his scarf, rocking on the balls of his feet in the studio that's not so different from the loft he called home, looking around at all the small sculptures and pieces of artwork that encompass the two people living here. It seems as if there's no room for him. "You don't even know me. Why are you doing this?"

"You say that like we'd leave someone alone out there when they obviously need help," Elliott says, and Kurt looks down when he feels tears prickling at his eyes. "Feel free to cry. God knows we all do more than enough of it when we start out. I know it's a difficult time, but we want to help you. Everyone needs to be shown a little kindness."

The tears rise before Kurt can choke them back, hot and prickling, and Dani is suddenly embracing him, the scent of her perfume rising around them, her soft hair brushing against his skin as she cradles him. "I don't have anything of my own," Kurt says quietly, voice choked with tears. "It's all at home." He tears off the scarf, and tries to pretend he doesn't notice Dani's jaw dropping at his scars, reaching up to wipe away a crust of blood.

"Where is home?" Elliott asks gently, opening the fridge and pulling out a blood bag, inserting the straw expertly and taking a long drink. Kurt watches him do it, the way his lips purse around the straw and his cheeks hollow as he sucks, and feels the first quiver of desire in weeks, shivering warm in the pit of his stomach.

"Bushwick," Kurt answers, and then, "Ohio." Both of them look at him curiously, and he sighs and says, "It all depends. My family are in Lima, and I moved here with one of my friends in September. Another one has moved in since then. I guess I really have two places I like to call home. It's about the people there."

"Most people like us don't even have one place they like to call home, so you're doing great," Elliott jokes, but it's weak, and Kurt can see the sadness that flashes across his eyes. "They say vampires make up twenty-five percent of New York's homeless. I know not everyone likes social justice this late at night, but once you've recovered we'll start pointing you towards some of the things we're involved in." Pulling out a box of blood bags, he picks out five and presses them into Kurt's hand. "Come on, you need to get healthy again. You'll be able to heal and fight."

Kurt obediently drinks each one, until he feels glutted on it, swollen up, and Dani smiles as she pulls a blanket and a few pillows to the couch, and tucks herself into it. "I'm the shortest, therefore I sleep on the couch," she says cheerfully, toeing her socks off beneath the blankets and saying, "Kurt, you can have my room, as long as you can deal with all the pictures of past girlfriends. Elliott's room is filled with morbid pictures, so mine is more cheerful."

"It's not morbid!" Elliott protests loudly, and Dani rolls her eyes fondly. "It's  _not_! It's  _sentimental_! There is an extremely important difference between morbidity and sentimentality! It's not as if any of the girls on your walls are still with you to this day."

"Please, I frame it to be bright and exciting," Dani says, and is across the room with inhuman speed to open her door and show Kurt what's she's talking about. The room isn't tidy at all, with stacks of paper all over the floor and the desk disappearing beneath teetering piles of books. "Sorry for the mess, I'm back to school doing a Literature course, so I have essays and all that to write." Glancing at Kurt, she says, "Surprised? Colleges take vampires, it's not as if we're going to go feral during a lecture and kill the professor. We're pretty much human aside from different dietary requirements."

Pulling anxiously at the ends of his sleeves, his whole world twisting and turning and melting, forming into a brand-new shape he's never heard of before, Kurt quietly says, "But he...Cody, the one who turned me, he told me the whole world was against us. He told me there were hunters and no community and I wouldn't be safe away from him."

"Well it's true that young ones can be safe with their masters, but not when the master in question makes you look like that and follow two strangers home to get away," Elliott says, and Dani turns away, a flash of something like fury shadowing her face. "And you get extremists in every state. We're lucky New York is so liberal, if this was one of the more southern states we'd have to be hiding and only going out at night. Although I hear there's a proposal to make our rights a federal law, so there's hope yet." He smiles and ruffles Kurt's hair affectionately. "Stick with us, kiddo. We'll let you meet some friends of ours, heads of support groups and so on. The community round here is pretty tight. Obviously that dick wants to stay separated."

His voice is so warm and his smile so kind, and Dani holds out another blood bag even though her eyes are swirling with a familiar hungry darkness, that Kurt bursts into pathetically grateful tears. "I'm sorry," he hiccups through his sobs. "It's just been so long since anyone showed me any kindness. You're so generous to take me in, but you honestly don't have to. I'm out now, I could make it on my own."

"Everyone needs help sometimes," Dani says softly, and ruffles Elliott's hair affectionately. "I was alone too when this idiot found me and helped me find my feet. He even set me up with my first girlfriend since I was changed, this girl we met at a support group who was caring for her turned little brother. Lovely woman, that's her in the blue dress." Pressing a fresh blood bag into his hands, she says, "Stay with us, at least for a little while. We'll help you."

Being there reminds Kurt almost eerily of the loft, with Rachel and Santana. Dani is singing as she finishes an essay, her voice swelling up in the silence and echoing, making the tears prick at his eyes when he thinks about Rachel and Santana. The small rooms are reminiscent of his, filled with pictures from glee club, his dad and that single precious picture of his mother, the pictures of Blaine he had never found the strength to tear down. He presses his face into the pillow and lets himself sob for ten minutes, missing them with every fibre of his being and feeling the weight of loss jarring through him, rattling his bones, until finally he manages to fall into an exhausted sleep.

* * *

Kurt's introduction to the underground vampire community of New York might start out with two complete strangers who are kind enough to open their home to him, but he soon discovers that not everyone is like that. There are extremists, of course, who truly believe their race is superior to humanity in every way - they won't be satisfied until a vampire is elected as president. There are those who are almost in denial of their condition, truly believing they can be changed back into humans and forget the entire ordeal. Elliott actually runs a support group, for those who were changed consensually but now regret saying yes. Kurt sits in on one of the sessions, transfixed by the way Elliott's hands move and his voice is so soothing, the way he gives everyone who speaks his undivided attention and comforts those who break down.

Whenever he sees that side of Elliott, the helpful, kind, charming side, he's reminded of Blaine, something that sends a jolt of exquisite pain through him every time. So many nights, sitting alone in his room and feeling unable to talk to Dani or Elliott, he thinks about picking up the apartment phone and calling him. Just to see where he stands - he almost wishes that Blaine will move on and won't wait for him. He's still terrified that Cody will go to Lima to search for him after his second disappearance, and fight his way through everyone Kurt cares about to get to him. He wakes up in the middle of the night, screaming, from nightmares of Blaine's face ripped apart, seeing Cody bent over him with blood staining his wicked smirk, fangs gleaming in the moonlight as he lets the body of the man Kurt loves so much slump to the ground, lifeless.

Sometimes he watches Cody bite Blaine like he bit him, the two of them kissing and grinding, Cody meeting Kurt's horrified eyes with a self-satisfied smirk, and Kurt will turn away in tears, Blaine's soft moans of pleasure echoing like a pulse in his ears, and then he'll hear Blaine's scream, see the blood spill out onto the white sheets even with his back turned, and he feel the touch of a hand sticky with blood on his back, and he'll scream and scream but no one ever comes, no one is going to rescue him, and Cody kisses him with lips that taste like Blaine's blood, and Kurt is dizzy with the stench of blood and death and the sobs that are screaming to burst out of him, and that's when he starts to scream.

"Kurt!" Jerking upright, Kurt starts to scream again when he sees the dark figure looming over him, still gripped by fear and revulsion and utter black misery, still caught up in a dream where he's stained with bloody fingerprints and there's a hard wet mouth on his and strong hands holding him still and the love of his life is dead on the bed in front of him. The light flickers to life, so bright that he blinks hard against the sudden glare, and the bed dips as Elliott sits down, untangling the sheets where they're knotted around Kurt's body, smoothing them down against the mattress and smiling reassuringly. "That's the worst I've ever heard you. Every night this week, you've been like this." Squeezing Kurt's knee gently, a reassuring touch that makes the heat shiver up Kurt's spine - it's so  _physical_ , after weeks of never being able to experience anything, of even his subconscious filling him with dread and fear instead of visions of Blaine's eyes fluttering as Kurt touches him, or the memory of how it felt when they kissed as they made love, filled with intensity and emotion - Elliott says, "I think he might be getting into your mind when you're sleeping. It would make sense."

Staring into Elliott's eyes, Kurt asks, "Have I really woken you up every night this week?" When Elliott bites his lip and looks away to avoid telling the truth, Kurt huffs hard and says, "I'm so sorry, Elliott. He just gets to me, and I'm so scared about everything. I can't ever forget it, it's always there. He was the only person in my mind for so long, it's like there are still parts of him lingering." Even as he says it, he thinks about Blaine's imagined scream again, and starts to shake, the tears rising hotly in his throat.

"I want to try something," Elliott says softly, and takes Kurt's hand. It's almost instinctive, the way Kurt assesses how their hands feel when they meet, Elliott's skin soft and inevitably cool to the touch, how Elliott's fingers intertwine with his and he smiles again. "I want to see if I can get into your mind and shut the doors on some of this darkness. At least enough to let you sleep for a full night without waking up in tears."

Embarrassed at the idea that Elliott could hear his desperate, rasping sobs, no matter how hard he tried to bury them in his pillow, Kurt shifts a little closer and lets Elliott hold his hand tighter. His eyes fall closed as Elliott's do, and he can feel Elliott tentatively sliding into his mind, wandering aimlessly through his memories. It's almost as if he throws cloths over the saddest, most frightening memories, blacking them out and leaving the happiest ones behind. The wedding is pure and shining at the front of his mind, filled with Blaine in front of him, on top of him, beside him, beneath him, always smiling and always blissfully in love.

Overwhelmed with joy, Kurt drops Elliott's hands and breathes, "Thank you." Elliott smiles at him, but there's melancholy in his eyes, a longing for something that is long gone, and Kurt feels so sorry for him that he tilts his head up and brushes a soft kiss against Elliott's lips. But Elliott grasps at him, tugs him closer, and deepens the kiss, until Kurt is shivering beneath the slow, careful touch. Elliott handles him as if he might break, but the kisses are intense.

But Kurt doesn't feel the same way about Elliott that he does about Blaine, and he never will. Still, it feels so wonderful to  _want_  someone again that he happily kisses back and reciprocates the gentle caresses, up until Elliott breaks the kiss and looks down at him hopelessly. "This isn't going to help anything," he says, and Kurt can only nod in agreement, "You're lonely and upset and miss your boyfriend, and I just miss everything I never really got to have."

Kurt gazes at Elliott curiously, pulling the blankets up around himself as he starts violently shivering again, and Elliott sighs, slipping beneath the blankets with Kurt and putting an arm across him. "I'm Scottish, originally," he says, and Kurt stares at him in absolute shock. "I've lived in the USA almost a hundred years, so the accent's pretty ironed out now. Joined the First World War with my best friend. We were lovers." Kurt's eyes blow wide again at that confession, and Elliott chuckles despite everything. "Is it really that shocking? I was so in love with him, and I got it into my head that if we both survived the war, things would be better for us on the other side. It was only supposed to last until Christmas. I thought that, if people knew we'd risked our lives for our country, they'd accept - or at least turn a blind eye to - what we wanted to be." Leaning against Kurt, fingers idly tracing up and down his side, he quietly says, "But then the war didn't end. It was scary, and real, and people were dying every day. And I got so scared that I was going to die, that I went walking out in the dark, expecting to be shot. But the German guard was a vampire, and he saw in me the desire to survive. So he turned me."

"But I thought..." Kurt trails off, trying to think of the most tactful way to word his question. "I thought that you run the workshop for consensual turning from personal experience."

"It is," Elliott says. "When he came to me and suggested it, I said yes. He took me away from the trenches to turn, and taught me a few key aspects of life as a vampire. But when I went back to my friends, expecting them to be relieved, they threw rocks at me and shot until I left. They thought I was a demon. So I wandered around France, waiting for news that the war was over. The man who turned me never followed me, because he really had done it as a favour. But I started to realise that living forever was a curse rather than a blessing - especially when I moved to the US and found out that Kenneth had already gotten over me and was married. I lost track of him after that. Dani only came into my life forty years ago, but we've been together ever since. Both of us needed a friend."

"I wish I'd had your master," Kurt says softly, and Elliott smiles a little, the weight of melancholy lifting. "I'd love to be left alone." Shifting again, leaning into Elliott with a heavy sigh, he asks, "What about Dani? What happened to her?"

"Non-consensual," Elliott says simply. Meeting other vampires, Kurt's learned that not everyone wants to share the full circumstances of their turning - too many painful memories, for most. But most will confide whether the bite was asked for or forced - and far too many say it was forced on them. "She was at a festival and some jerkwad hit on her. When she turned him down and said she was a lesbian, he got so angry that he bit her. She turned, and he tried to control her mind the way Cody controlled yours. But she was strong-willed and incredibly stubborn, and this guy wasn't as powerful as Cody, so she was able to escape him. He followed her all over the country, determined to bring her to heel, and eventually she killed him."

Cold descends over Kurt as fast as water splashing down, and the scariest thing is the part of his mind that agrees with Dani's extreme action. "Really?" he asks, trying to reconcile the woman he knows, who discusses the political symbolism of  _One Flew Over The Cuckoo's Nest_  with complete sincerity and fascination, and gets bored very quickly with her hair colour, with someone who is capable of murder.

"Sometimes our circumstances drive us to extremes," Elliott says gently. "It's more common than you might think. It's the only way to get rid of persistent masters forever. I met her when she was starving, and she tried to hypnotise me, thinking I was human. Took her under my wing and helped her through everything. She still has nightmares." A shadow falls across his face, and he mumbles, "We all do."

Taking Elliott's hand gently, trying to comfort him, Kurt harshes out, "The nightmares are getting worse. I keep picturing Blaine in the same situation as I was, but Cody kills him instead of turning him. Every night, I watch the man who tortured me killing the man I love. And then I think that Blaine would be so much safer if he moved on - but that thought kills me." Staring at his knees, covered by the blankets, he murmurs, "Maybe I'm just being selfish. I shouldn't have promised Blaine that we'd be together again when I came back. He'll just wait for me forever, and he'll never move on with his life. I didn't want that."

Elliott lifts Kurt's chin again to reach for him, and kisses him. Despite knowing that they should stop, that they shouldn't let this happen, that both of them are using the other as a substitute for someone they miss and wish was next to them, Kurt leans into the kiss, arms snaking around Elliott's broad shoulders, until Elliott pulls away with a gasp and says, "Doing this is selfish, at least for me. I want you to be Kenneth, and I'm only kissing you to remember him. But you promising Blaine something, that's not selfish. He has the choice to move on if he wants to, but from what you've told me I don't think he will. You could turn around and go home and be with him in the morning if you want. I could even be persuaded to come with you."

Shrugging helplessly, fingers still clutching at Elliott, Kurt says, "I can't leave New York. Not until I can strike some sort of deal with Cody, and get away from him. If I go home with him hanging over my head, I run the risk of him following me. And I don't underestimate him - I think he would kill to get to me. Whatever he feels for me, it's a lot and he wants me to be with him."

"Then you know the solution." Both of them look up to see Dani in the doorway, leaning against the frame with her hair wrapped in an old towel, in the process of being dyed from blonde to blue. "I felt the same way when I was turned. I dropped all contact with my family and my friends and my girlfriend; I was so scared he would find his way to me through them. But he was so persistent, and so horrible, that I eventually just snapped. I killed him, I ripped him apart in a haze of bloodlust, and I ran until I bumped into Elliott and found somewhere to go." Folding her legs beneath her as she sits on the end of the bed, she looks Kurt straight in the eyes and says, "You have to kill Cody."

"I can't!" Kurt protests, even though the idea flashes across the back of his mind, all the weaknesses he knows and could exploit, how he would tempt Cody closer and tear him apart like Cody tore his life apart, the satisfaction it would bring to some deeper, darker part of himself to watch the light go from Cody's eyes. "I've faced hundreds of bullies in my life, and I've never wished death on any of them. I can't kill him!" Frantically searching for another solution - now that Dani has pointed out the best one, it's the only thing he can think about - he says, "I want to reason with him. I think...I know he loves me. If I'm careful, I can negotiate. I've left him twice, that makes it pretty clear that I don't want to be with him."

Dani and Elliott exchange a look, the kind two people with an incredibly deep connection have - they're communicating with their eyes, knowing exactly what the other is thinking and feeling, and they turn to look at Kurt at the same time, expressions resigned. "Fine," Dani says wearily. "But we're coming with you, and if he starts to get belligerent or violent we'll step in long enough for you to escape. But I'm telling you, the only way to escape completely is to kill him. He has to die for you to be free."

Despite the chill that takes over the apartment after those words, the day remains the same as any other. Dani leaves for a lecture, still enthusiastically talking about the Gothic theme in post-modern literature as she adjusts her skirt and looks frantically for her flip-flops on the sunniest day of the year thus far. Elliott rolls his eyes fondly at her and goes out to work with a kiss dropped on the top of Kurt's head. Kurt sits alone in the apartment and stares at the little wooden sculpture on the table. Even though he's been living here for almost a month, he still hasn't managed to figure out what it is. It's so abstract, whorls and curlicues of polished wood, spiralling and intertwining to create a shape that looks like nothing he's ever seen before. It's brand-new, and there's beauty in it. Maybe the answer to his problem could be in one of the impossible-to-dust shapes.

He's not a murderer - that much he knows. He's never even joked about killing someone, even at his most frustrated or angry or upset or offended. That label doesn't belong on him, even when so many others are forced on him. Even when the person he should kill has treated him like a possession, forced him to forget a life that made him happy, complicated everything until the darkness seems to be closing in like a fog and sucking all the light out of his life. He doesn't want to be a murderer - he shouldn't have to do this. His hopes are high that he will be able to reason with Cody, to negotiate his way out of this - no matter how many times that betraying little voice whispers that he won't. That  _murder_  is the only option.

He won't let it be his only option. He won't return to Ohio, his family and his friends and his life, as a man who has killed for his own gains. When he returns, it will be as a free man with a conscience free of a murder, and they'll welcome him back with open arms.

* * *

Returning to the last place he saw Cody before running away with Dani and Elliott, Kurt is shaking violently, dressed once again in the clothes he was wearing that night, scarf knotted tight enough around his neck that the knot is pressing into the hollow of his throat, making his breathing shallow. Reaching for him, Dani loosens the knot and presses a soft kiss to his cheek, leaving an imprint of dark lipstick on his ashen skin. "Remember the plan," she says gently, and Elliott nods sagely. "Be calm and composed, and do your best to relate to him. Go into his mind if you have to - appeal to his humanity. If he loves you as much as you seem to think, I'm sure he can be persuaded to let you go."

"You'll be fine," Elliott says quietly, reassuring. "I have faith in you. You're a strong person and you're better than him." He kisses Kurt - it's become a common occurrence, when both of them need the comfort of physical touch, and Dani barely even blinks anymore - and Kurt can feel some of that trust and faith flood into him, warming him and filling him with a greater strength than he ever thought possible. Squeezing his waist, tugging affectionately on the dangling ends of his scarf, Elliott promises, "It's going to be okay."

Giving the pair who've rapidly become some of the best friends he's ever had - just two more people to fear losing, two more people to stay alive for, two more people who give meaning to the mess his life has become - a tight smile, Kurt steps out into the bright lights of the big city, searching the streets for a familiar face or voice. There are people everywhere, stumbling home from nights out or moving on to the next club, all clutching at each other and laughing. In a simpler life, one without his mistakes, he might be one of them, falling into the gutter and giggling frantically, alcohol on his breath and Rachel and Santana squashed against his sides. If he can negotiate safely and calmly, he could go back to everything that makes him feel light with joy and brings a smile to his face at the memories, to the sound of Rachel singing as an alarm clock and the cloying smell of Santana's hairspray and the sound of life all around him - never feeling alone.

Although he doesn't believe in God, Kurt sends up a prayer to the stars concealed by the neon lights of the club and billboards, hoping that someone, somewhere is watching over him. Maybe his mother, looking down on him and helping her only child to right the wrongs his mistakes led to. Giving him guidance, in the soft soothing voice from the wedding video, her blue eyes misty with tears and pink lips curved up in a maternal smile. He imagines her holding him close, and he breathes in hard, filling himself with strength until he could float with it.

He hears the call before he sees the dark silhouette, frantic as a mother bird calling for her lost chicks. "Kurt! Kurt!  _Please_!" A harsh sound, like a breathy sob, and a murmur that Kurt still hears clear as a bell, as he sees Cody walking aimlessly along the street, the light catching on his hair and the white scarf tied around his wrist - something he bought for Kurt, something that no doubt smells like him - as he searches every shadow and side street, his very tone hopeless as he says, "Please come back to me."

Stepping into his line of vision, tugging again on the ends of his scarf, Kurt can almost feel the relief that floods across Cody's face when he says, "I'm here." Stumbling on the uneven sidewalk, fingers outstretched desperately, Cody reaches him with eyes glazed with tears, an incredulous smile pulling at the corners of his mouth. "You just disappeared," he says softly. "I thought you'd left me forever." He's crying then, in a way Kurt has never seen, the tears coursing down his pale cheeks and leaving long silvery streaks behind, as he takes Kurt's hands in his and lifts them to his lips, kissing every knuckle. "I love you so much. I never even realised how much until you were gone. Every day has been like being turned all over again, waking up and seeing that you weren't there beside me." He tilts their foreheads together, and he smells fresh and clean rather than like blood, and Kurt is reminded so agonisingly of Blaine that he almost sinks under the weight of missing him. "But now you've come home."

"I won't stay," Kurt says, and Cody steps back in horror, a lost little boy in the world. "I can't be with you, Cody, ever. I don't love you, and after what you did to me I can't see you as anything more than a monster. I know you love me, but how can you be sure it's not a delusion? We didn't know each other, and then I was your puppet. Do you love the real me? The one who runs away and leaves you and doesn't want to stay?"

"Of course I love you," Cody says, and his voice is almost wistful, gazing at Kurt earnestly. "I love all of you, every part. You're so beautiful, and so bright and strong and brave. Like a star." He smiles, and memories wash over Kurt, thinking about Blaine in a coffeeshop and in bed together and backstage before they won Nationals and on the phone with tears constricting both their voices and dancing to delicate music beneath low lights. "Please stay with me, Kurt. I...I can't do it without you. I can't live my life."

"You'll be fine without me," Kurt says, and there's a part of him that recoils at the idea of comforting the monster who did this to him. But he wants to negotiate his way out, and to do that he has to convince Cody that he can be alone. "You survived for hundreds of years before me, and you can survive for hundreds more. Please try to see this whole thing from my point of view - I'm in love with someone else. I have a whole life I want to go back to, and you just don't fit. I'm sorry, but I'm not what you're looking for. I want something completely different."

Cody stares at him miserably, and quietly confesses, "I searched for hundreds of years to find someone who could replace my Tavia. Someone I could take care of, someone who would love me like I loved her, someone who would stay with me forever and never betray me. And then I found you, this beautiful sad angel who needed to have a smile put back on your face, and I helped you. I know I did." Clutching at Kurt's hands again, the tear tracks on his cheeks gleaming eerily in the burning neon lights, he whispers, "Kurt, I love you. I would move the earth for you. I would  _die_  for you. Why isn't that enough for you?"

"Because I don't want someone to die for me," Kurt says harshly, and Cody recoils at his words. "I don't need someone who would martyr themselves for love. I don't need someone to pull mountains out of the ground to prove themselves. I just need to love someone, and it's not you." Glancing up into the sky, faint stars obscure by the city's light, he sees the sun beginning to rise to the east, pale for now. But fear still grips him, the knowing that sunlight will hurt him and he has to find a way to reach through that layer of denial to reach Cody, and he's frantic as he says, "His name is Blaine. I've loved him for two years. I want to spend the rest of my life with him. And you can't change that. And I would be so happy if you let me leave you and be with him. One day, you'll find someone."

But Cody is crying again, no matter how gently Kurt tries to word his statement, and he grips Kurt's hands tighter, until his grip is so fierce it hurts, crushing Kurt's fingers together painfully. "This isn't supposed to happen!" he sobs desperately. "This isn't how it works! You fall in love with someone and they love you back. I did everything  _right_. I made you mine, I took you into my home, I treated you like Tavia treated me. I loved her so much. You were supposed to love me like that!"

"Maybe, if you let me walk away, you'll find someone," Kurt says, trying to soothe him. "You could meet someone and treat them right, and they'll fall for you because you're kind to them. Not because you try to delude them into thinking there's love between you. There's someone out there for everyone, and I know you'll find them one day. But for now, you can't have me just because you love me. I want to go back to the man I love. If you really have these feelings for me, you'll understand how badly I want to be with him."

"No,  _no_ , you're the someone for me!" Cody shouts, and Kurt steps back from the force of the shout, tugging his hands out of Cody's iron grip, a quiver of fear breaking his resolve, making his shoulders droop. "You have to stay with me, you can't leave! You're my person, my new person. You helped me to forget Tavia, my only love. You're supposed to be with me!"

"She didn't love you!" Kurt screams, fury bursting out of him like a fire, like the sun rising slowly in the sky, a clock ticking down, ruining his plan to remain calm and sincere and soothing, to appeal to Cody's humanity in order to get away from him. "You said it yourself, she  _used_  you! You were just a puppet to her, someone she could use to further her power. She sold you out, for God's sake, you had to leave the country!"

"But I wasn't using you!" Cody insists, snatching Kurt's hands into his, pulling him closer until he's within kissing distance, and Kurt can feel his breath whispering against his skin. "I fell in love with you the first time I saw you. I made sure we met. I know I made you smile for the first time since your heart broke. I just wanted to show you how much better life could be with me. I wanted to love you, Kurt, is that so hard to understand?"

Thinking about the times years ago when he would watch Finn across the room, just praying to be noticed, hoping that his dreams would come true, Kurt gulps and says, "I understand what it's like to love someone who doesn't love you back. I know how it feels. I know that you just hope every day that they'll turn around and the light will come on and they'll love you after all. But I'm telling you what you need to understand: it's  _never_  going to happen. Not with me. And if you won't let me leave, I'll do it anyway. I just want to go  _home_. Don't you remember home?"

Cody's face sets like rock, and he stares into the distance for a second, looking through Kurt like he isn't even there. Yet he fails to notice the pale line across the horizon, the rising sun, and Kurt's breathing comes faster, fear gripping him that he won't beat the timer counting down the minutes to succeed. "I haven't had a home in a long time," he says slowly. "My family are long gone. My friends. I've never really had any friends who were like me...like us. I don't even own the house I live in."

"Maybe you should find a place to call home," Kurt says slowly, smothering a smile. He's finally getting through to him, this could lead to Cody bettering himself as well as letting Kurt leave him. He could actually make a positive difference to someone's life. They can both get out of the sun and return to their natural realm of the shadows - before it's too late for either of them. "There's a huge community of vampires who could support you. So many stories like yours. They would help you find yourself again. You could go out there and find happiness."

For a moment, it almost seems as if Cody's considering it. Realising that his life is far from happy. Realising that there are people who can help him, and he can go to them and find himself again and build a new life. But then he looks at Kurt, and he says, "But you're my happiness. If you're not with me, what's the point in trying to make a new life?" His eyes shine with love as his fingers curl around Kurt's waist and pulls him closer. Cody presses their foreheads together and brushes the lightest kiss against Kurt's lips, and whispers, "Make a new life with me."

"No!" Kurt pushes him away, and he staggers, heartbreak thrown across his face as Kurt glares at him. "I don't want a new life with you. I want to go back to my old life. I want my friends and my family back. I don't want this or you. I never did." Dani's voice whispers in the back of his mind, and he knows that if he truly wants to be free, negotiation is not the next course of action. He  _knows_  that he should use Cody's shock at his rejection as an advantage and kill him. But when he looks down at his hands, he knows he can't.

Whatever Cody might have done to him, he's not a monster to the core. He's like a child, he's still just that young boy who loved someone who didn't love him back, who was used by someone just to increase their power, who had to leave his home because the woman he was so wildly in love with had him chased out of his own country by an angry mob. He just needs some help to get him back on his feet, and Kurt finally quietly says, "I know some people. They haven't been like us for as long as you have, but they can help you. They can take you to people who will have seen what you're dealing with, and you can learn to let go of your past and make a new future. You can find someone who loves you in return. Because it's not me." Throwing the dangling end of his scarf back over his shoulder, he says, "I'm leaving now. Please don't follow me."

As he turns around, Kurt can see the way the sun is rising higher and higher, and shudders at how close he is to running out of time. Cody won't listen to him, and though Dani showed him the research, that sunlight won't affect him fatally as he's so young, he'll need to get inside or into shade quickly to avoid being burned. And there's so little hope for Cody, unless he comes to his senses and sinks into the shadows as soon as possible. "Kurt, please wait!" Cody shouts after him, and Kurt tries to keep walking, tries not to turn around like his instincts are screaming at him to do as he listens to those desperate, heartbroken pleas. "Kurt, please! I love you so much, please don't leave me!"

"Go home, Cody!" Kurt shouts over his shoulder. "Get out of the sun, for God's sake!" He's not a murderer, and he can't let someone die with the knowledge that he didn't do anything. He almost thinks about pulling Cody into the shadows, but there's a fear lingering that Cody will think it's a positive answer to everything he's offering, and Kurt doesn't want to raise his hopes like that before crushing them again. Breaking someone's heart is not an experience he likes.

"Not until you agree to come home with me!" Cody shouts at him, and Kurt turns around hopelessly. "Please don't leave! I love you!" The sun is shifting across the sidewalk, and Kurt feels the warmth even with the rays still gliding towards him, and it feels like it's burning him, drying his throat and blistering his skin.

"I'm sorry," Kurt says, shaking his head gently, willing the tears to go away. He shouldn't have to cry just because he's rejecting someone who tried to force him into love, it shouldn't affect him like this. "It's not going to happen. Go home and sleep and stop thinking about me. Please do this for me."

Cody seems to have shrunk when Kurt glances back at him, all traces of the golden master Kurt first knew gone. He's small and scared and sad, still searching. "But I love you," he says, and stumbles a few steps further forward. "I  _love_  you."

And then the screaming starts. The sun rises higher in the sky, and Cody is screaming in agony, body convulsing, and Kurt can't do anything but watch in horror as he collapses onto the street, skin red and blistering in the sunlight. He's  _dying_ , and Kurt can't see a shaded corner or side street, can't turn the clock back to night, but stands and watches. Cody looks up at him one last time, his eyes black as the night sky to the west, and he whispers, "I told you I would die for you."

Kurt screams when Cody slumps to the ground, burned and blistered, his eyes gazing unseeingly at the dawn breaking, and he falls back against the nearest wall, the rough brick scraping his skin as he slides to the ground, staring in horror at the body. He wanted to  _help_ , he wanted to make Cody see that he could have a new life, and now there's nothing left of him but a dead body and it's Kurt's fault, Cody was following him into the sun, it's his  _fault_. "Kurt!" It's Elliott's voice, yelling his name, but Kurt is paralysed, he can't do anything but stare. He hears the sound of footsteps on the sidewalk, hears Dani's yelp, Elliott shouting, "Call an ambulance!" But the kaleidoscope of the world fades to black, and he slumps sideway onto the cool ground.

* * *

Screaming. Agony that splits him in two. Voices clashing like cymbals, all shouting over each other. Warm hands on his cold skin. Faces that float across his vision, each one drawn and worried. Kisses on his forehead, his temples, his cheeks. Fingers between his, wrapping his hand up tight. The world fading back into focus, colours looking brighter than before, and he finally sits up with a groan.

"Good to see you're awake, Mr. Hummel." The voice in question comes from a kind-faced doctor with a very white smile, who looks at Kurt with such compassion that it jars through him like a wrong note in a song. "Do you remember what happened prior to you arriving here?"

Yelling and screaming and sobbing, flashing and rotating blue and red lights, his own voice wailing, writhing away from the hands on him, trying to reach the dead body on the street, hoping that he could bring him back to life and point him in the right direction. The paramedic preparing the injection, the tears pouring hot down his cheeks when he saw the light gleaming against the wicked needle, being held down as the tranquilizer was injected into his neck, slumping down again and losing consciousness. Shivering, Kurt nods and quietly says, "I thought hospitals didn't take people like me."

"You are woefully undereducated about your own kind, Mr. Hummel," the doctor says, and Kurt bristles indignantly. "My name is Doctor Barnes, and I specialise in vampire medicine. As well as research into curing vampires and reversing transformations, there's been incredible developments in treating them. You've been in here for three days, mostly tranquilized, recovering from those burns. We didn't want to keep you unconscious, but every time you woke up you started screaming, and we had to call in help." Kurt stares down at himself on the pristine hospital sheets, reaches a shaking hand up to touch his face, the bandages stretching over his cheeks and forehead, and listens to Dr. Barnes gently explaining, "You suffered severe burns on your face and neck, and light to moderate burns on your shoulders, back and stomach. Not to mention the terrible scarring all over your body. We wanted to contact the police after an initial examination, but your friend, Mr. Gilbert, told us not to. He told us it would make things worse if we did."

Kurt just nods, still at a loss for words. It's such a shock, realising that people really do want to help him, that they wouldn't turn him away because of what he is. "You have some very dedicated friends, Mr. Hummel," Dr. Barnes says cheerfully, filling something in on a sheet - probably  _awoke and didn't immediately start screaming_  - and giving Kurt a grin. "All four of them have been here for all three days, sleeping in the empty beds in our vampire medicine wing."

"All...four?" Kurt asks, and Dr. Barnes nods, brow furrowing at Kurt's confusion. "But there were only two of them with me when I came in. Just Dani and Elliott."

Dr. Barnes frowns at him, and leaves the room, letting Kurt adjust himself on the bed, trying to find the most comfortable position, the sheets cool against his burnt skin. The door swings open again, and Kurt sits up straight when Rachel walks into the room, wearing her NYADA sweatshirt with her hair tied back, looking tired and worried. But joy blooms onto her face when she sees Kurt awake and alert, and she rushes across the room to throw her arms around his neck, making him wince when her skin scrapes against his burns. "Oh God, sorry!" she squeaks, and backs off. "I'm just so happy to see you!" He opens his mouth, and she puts a finger on his lips before he can speak. "Elliott warned us you might panic about us knowing you're a vampire. But we don't  _care_ , Kurt. Everyone knows, we told them all you were safe in hospital and we were taking you home with us when the doctors say we can. We love you and we're all so pleased that you're okay."

Santana enters next, uncharacteristically wearing baggy clothes - Kurt thinks he recognises his own shirt masking her figure - and pulls a chair up next to his bed, leaning over to kiss every inch of his forehead and cheeks not masked by bandages, finishing with a kiss dropped on the end of his nose like an afterthought, and she grins at him, eyes misty with tears. "Thank God you're alright," she says, and clasps his hand in hers. "We were so worried, and then we get a call from some guy we don't know telling us you're in the hospital for burns and we come screaming here to meet two more vampires who fill us in on what they know. They've gone out to get lunch so we don't have to eat more gross hospital food."

"I missed you so much," Kurt whispers, and both women launch themselves at him, all three of them tangled up together, clutching at each other and hoping they never have to left go. He can smell their perfume clashing together, Rachel's sweet and Santana's sharp, their soft hair brushing against his sensitive skin, their warmth seeping into him and making him feel lighter with joy. "So when can I move back in?"

"Whenever you want," Rachel says, pulling a crumpled tissue out of her pocket and dabbing at her streaming eyes, smiling at Kurt through her tears. "We managed to make a space for Santana without disturbing your room much, so everything is just like it was. We knew you'd turn up and want to come back." Curling as close as she can to him, she murmurs, "But make it soon, please. It's not the same without you."

The door squeaks open while they're quietly talking, and Dani and Elliott walk in with brown paper bags in their hands, Elliott holding one out to Rachel with a flourish and a, "My lady, your entirely vegan lunch." Laughing at his over-the-top refined English accent and the pleased flush that spills pink across Rachel's cheeks, Kurt can't help but also notice the distinctly flirty look Santana exchanges with Dani, their hands brushing for a second too long when Santana takes her lunch, and smiles to himself.

"You can't even imagine what it's been like, Kurt," Rachel says as she eats her side salad, a shred of lettuce leaf clinging to the corner of her mouth. He nods slowly, and she continues, "We got a glimpse of hope on Valentine's Day, and then you were gone again. Three months with no contact. But we all firmly believed you'd come back. Especially Blaine."

The very mention of that name sends a jolt through Kurt's body, like a lightning strike, and both Rachel and Santana see his expression. "He's fine," Santana says before Rachel can. "He's been doing well with the glee club, but they placed second at Nationals, so Sue - she's principal now, she got Figgins fired - disbanded the club. Graduation is in two days, and we both promised we'd go. You can come with us, if you want." Smiling gratefully at the offer, Kurt reaches for her hand and is shocked when a memory washes over him, human minds apparently far more vulnerable than the minds of the vampires he's been around for the last three months.

_The sun is searing through the gap between the open curtains, and Rachel's groaning sounds like a car engine as Santana rolls onto her stomach beneath her one blanket, feeling her fiercely tight shoes clinging to her feet and the sheen of sweat swathing her skin and the headache that seems to be concentrated right behind her eyes. Cracking one eye reluctantly open, she sees that Rachel's face has turned a charming shade of grey-green, and rolls to avoid being stepped on as Rachel runs out of the bedroom, heels clattering on the wooden floor. The sound of her throwing up makes Santana's stomach roil, and she sings softly to herself to block out the noises._

_Rachel returns shivering and grey-faced, eyes bloodshot and heavily-shadowed from lack of sleep. "I feel like death," she moans, sinking to the floor next to Santana. "I am never ever ever drinking again. It's not worth it."_

" _That is the biggest lie you will ever tell in your life, Berry," Santana says with an age-old wisdom, and Rachel glares at her. "Besides, this is only about a six on the hangover scale. If you were a ten, you would've puked in your bed due to an inability to move. Now pull yourself together, get up, put some comfy clothes on and we'll go suck down coffee and shower."_

_Santana showers first, letting the water scald away some of the shame and the generally ill feeling, and when she emerges in an old towel she feels a little more human. Rachel goes in next, and by the time she emerges with shiny hair and a heavy cardigan wrapped around her, Santana has made black coffee and some very dry toast, perched on one of the kitchen counters. "How much alcohol did we put in that eggnog?" she asks, and Santana just shrugs. "Oh God, I feel awful. Go wake Kurt up, see if he feels just as bad."_

" _I've actually found that orgasms are a wonderful cure for hangovers," Santana says with a wink, and Rachel actually giggles as Santana slides down from the counter and wanders aimlessly through the apartment in her thick socks. Preparing herself for the possibility of a naked body sprawled out on top of the bed, she knocks at the wall next to the firmly closed curtain and calls, "Kurt?"_

_When she gets no response, she unties the cords holding the curtain against the two silver hooks, and opens the curtain with a flourish, expecting to see Kurt sleeping in a contented, post-orgasmic heap. But Kurt isn't there - the room is empty, and pristine. Nothing is out of place, even his suitcases are stacked neatly in the corner. His phone is charging on his nightstand, and only the bed is disturbed. Folding over the corners of the blankets in that particular way her grandmother taught her, Santana notices a red-brown stain on the sheets. Leaning in closer, she lets out a terrified yelp - it's definitely blood. "Rachel!" she screams, and turns away from the bed._

_Stumbling out of the kitchen, Rachel clasps a hand over her open mouth when she sees the empty room, the coffee mug dropping from her hand and cracking into three pieces on the floor, spraying their feet and ankles with hot coffee. "Oh my God," she whispers, and both of them jump when Kurt's phone starts to ring. Hand shaking, Santana pulls the cable out and touches the button._

" _Kurt's phone, Santana speaking," she says, trying not to let any of her horror leak into her voice._

" _Santana?" It's Brittany's voice - and God, that sends a sharp jolt of agony through her bones. "I wanted to get Kurt. He sent me a really weird text last night saying 'Screw you, I've found someone new.' I feel like it wasn't meant for me."_

" _When was the last time you talked to him?" Santana asks, hope blooming in her belly. Kurt might just have gone home. He might have become overwhelmed with longing and stumbled out while they were sleeping._

" _About two weeks ago," Brittany replies, and her stomach just sinks. "Why?"_

_Santana ends the call without explaining, weighing it in her hand as she thinks over their options. Finally, she turns to Rachel and says, "I don't care if it's only been a few hours. We were all drunk and there was a stranger in our apartment last night. Call the police."_

_The officer who arrives hours later has a kind face, laughter lines etched at the corners of his mouth and eyes, and introduces himself as Officer Ralph Emerson, stepping into the apartment and hardly seeming phased by finding two frightened young women waiting for him. "Could you describe to me what happened last night?" he asks, and Rachel gives Santana a frantic, wide-eyed stare._

" _Kurt invited someone over for eight, so we'd already eaten and gotten ourselves ready," she describes, and Officer Emerson looks at her sympathetically, completely absorbed in her story. "We were all pretty excited - we've all just been through break-ups, so it was the first time Kurt had made a date since then. Cody arrived and we were drinking and singing, and we got a bit carried away. Rachel and I were out here when Kurt took Cody into his room. I think that was around midnight or one o'clock. There was some screaming and shouting, but we assumed that was a..." She flushes and says, "Sex thing. Then Cody came out after about forty minutes and told us Kurt was sleeping, and left the apartment. We kept drinking until about two, then we went to bed. Woke up about twelve, and took about half an hour to wake up and shower, and then I went into Kurt's room to wake him up and he was gone. Nothing's been taken, I don't think."_

" _May I see his room?" Ralph asks, and Santana nods, climbing up from the couch to lead him through into the eerily still room. "And you didn't check on Kurt before going to bed yourselves? Not even putting your head around the curtain?"_

" _We didn't think there was any reason to," Santana says, squirming with embarrassment in the face of the interrogation. She feels like a terrible friend. "We were really pretty drunk, and we thought Kurt had been having sex. We just didn't think."_

" _We all make mistakes in college," Ralph says comfortingly, and opens the closet door. "You say nothing had been taken - no valuables moved? Nothing?"_

" _His phone and laptop were still where they're supposed to be," Santana answers gloomily, twisting a strand of hair around her finger. "The only thing missing is the clothes he was wearing last night. And him." Looking around again, she says, "If it helps, we already tried to contact some of his closest friends and his family. No one's even heard from him recently."_

_Ralph's face closes off like shutters falling when he looks at the bloodstain on the bed, and picks up two pieces of torn red fabric from the floor. "If no one you've contacted knows of his whereabouts, we'll start the investigation as soon as possible. Especially considering he was drunk and there was a man none of you knew very well here." He lays a heavy hand on Santana's shoulders, and she gulps back the rising tears. "We'll do everything we can to find him, Ms. Lopez."_

Kurt jerks back into his own reality with a wide-eyed stare at Santana, but she doesn't sense anything amiss. "Do you want to stay away from Lima that badly?" she asks with a soft laugh. "If you really don't want to go, you don't have to."

"We just thought that you might want to," Rachel says softly, leaning closer to Kurt and covering his hand with hers, her eyes full of worry and love and happiness and nerves. "After all, you haven't seen anyone since the wedding. Only Blaine and Santana got to see you the morning after." Looking into her eyes, Kurt nudges forward slightly with his mind, looking through her memories for the morning of the fifteenth of February.

_Finn pulls out her chair as she sits down, and she smiles up at him. Mercifully, he doesn't try to kiss her in front of all their friends - it's like every couple who hooked up last night has accepted that what happens post-wedding reception stays post-wedding reception. Quinn and Santana are sitting remarkably close though, and keep feeding each other bites of waffle._

" _Where are the lovebirds?" Mercedes asks as she pours out another glass of orange juice for herself and then Sam. "And by that I mean Kurt and Blaine. They disappeared last night and I haven't heard a word from them since."_

" _Probably getting in a pre-breakfast fuck," Puck remarks casually, and Quinn throws the end of a loaf of bread at him. "What? Was I being too crass again?" The affirmative call is universal around the table, and Puck makes a face before returning to his eggs._

_It takes ten minutes, but Blaine appears, alone. All of them look at each other, not wanting to be the first to ask the question, until Sugar finally pipes up with, "Where's Kurt?" as Blaine stirs sugar into his coffee and takes the little pot of marmalade from the centre of the table._

" _He had to leave," Blaine says quietly. The table is silent for a moment, and then explodes into uproar._

" _But we didn't even get to catch up properly!" Artie shouts, slamming his fist onto the table and rattling everyone's cutlery._

" _I wanted to spend more time with him!" Brittany protests, looking down at her plate and pouting._

_Rachel stares determinedly at her fruit salad, lower lip quivering with the tears threatening to fall. Blaine eventually quiets everyone and gently explains, "He promised he'd come back soon. He'd be back to see us all again." He smiles to himself, and Rachel knows that the promise of a resumed relationship comes somewhere under everything about the night that is left unsaid._

"I'll come with you," Kurt says abruptly. "I definitely want to come. I want to see everyone." Rachel beams and Santana squeezes his hand, and both of them lean in to hug him again. But Kurt, although overjoyed to see them again and to feel the warmth of their acceptance like quiet sunlight on his skin, can't concentrate on anything but the prospect of seeing Blaine again.

* * *

Walking through McKinley's halls feels unnatural after so long in what felt like a different world. Walking through them when they're silent and empty is even stranger. Kurt feels the weight of Rachel and Santana's arms linked through his heavily, hears the click of their heels like a heartbeat on the floor, and stops them both to ask. "Do I really look okay?"

"You look completely perfect for someone who has come to their own high school with the sole intention of getting their ex back," Santana says, and Kurt shoots a glare at her. "Okay, God, I'm joking. That blue is really your colour, you look amazing. Go get him, tiger."

While they're hovering outside the door to backstage, hoping to see someone they know, it swings open and Tina emerges with an empty plastic bottle in hand. Kurt can't help but gasp sharply when he sees her in her red graduation gown, tassel on her cap swaying in front of her eyes, and her eyes light up when she sees him, a smile spreading across her nervous face. "Oh my  _God_!" she yelps, breaking into a light laugh and throwing herself into his arms, her own arms wrapped tightly around his neck, and he clutches her tightly and spins her around, grinning at her. The joy feels like a physical presence in the air as he sets her down and she adjusts her cap, breathless with happiness. "You  _came_!"

Noticing Rachel's curious look at the bottle in her hand, Tina waggles it gently and says, "Yeah, you guys are a little late, but I already heard about the delayed flight. Sue was giving her principal's speech and Blaine broke down, thinking Kurt wasn't coming. I had to hustle him off the stage and I was just going to get him some water. But," she holds the bottle out to Kurt with a sunny smile and says, "I think you should do the honours, Kurt. He's in the left wing, trying to pull himself together enough to go receive his diploma."

Smiling at her and leaning over to kiss her cheek, Kurt waves Santana and Rachel away to their seats and slips backstage, into the dimly-lit corridors. After a quick pause to fill the bottle at one of the backstage fountains, he dawdles through the empty corridors, trying to think of something to say. He can hear the announcements from the stage, and smiles when he hears Sue's speech, pushing through scenery left over from  _Grease_  to reach the left wing. The lights are down low, but he can see Blaine in the darkness, dabbing at his eyes. When he pulls at the sliding door, Blaine looks up and says, "I told you, Tina, I'm fine. I just want to be alone."

Nervously playing with the cap on the bottle, Kurt says, "I'm not Tina," and steps through the door, letting it grind shut behind him. He can't care about the people gathered in the auditorium hearing the thud of it closing, not when Blaine is standing from his seat, his eyes wide and bright in the murky darkness, and he's starting to smile.

"Kurt," he says softly, and Kurt smiles hearing Blaine say his name. "Kurt, oh my  _God_!" He throws himself into Kurt's arms, and the bottle gets knocked out of Kurt's hand, the cap rolling away and water spilling out over the polished wooden floor. But neither of them care, not when Blaine wraps his legs around Kurt's waist, graduation gown flapping around them, and kisses him fiercely, too wet and too hard and utterly  _perfect_. They break apart for only a moment, Kurt grabbing Blaine's thighs to haul him more securely against him, and Blaine smiles down and breathes, "I love you so much."

"I love you too," Kurt whispers, and they're kissing again, and Blaine is lowering his legs carefully back to the ground, and they're staggering backwards against the wall, and Kurt's thigh is between Blaine's legs and his hands sliding into the red gown and everything is getting incredibly out of control for a reunion in the wings of McKinley's stage. Clutching Blaine tighter, winding his arms around that narrow waist like vines around a slender tree, Kurt only tears his mouth away when Sue's harsh voice breaks through the bliss.

" _Blaine Anderson_!" She sounds as if she's on the knife edge of one of her well-known rages, and both of them step away from each other. Blaine's cheek are pink with a flush, his chest heaving, his hair out of place and his eyes dark, and although Kurt is outwardly composed he feels as wrecked as Blaine looks. "Blaine Anderson, this is your last call before I get really mad!"

"She gave me valedictorian and read over my speech," Blaine says breathlessly, and Kurt beams at him, proudly kissing him again. Pushing him away gently, Blaine adds, "I should really just go out there. You can slip into the crowd if you want, rather than standing in the dark." Squeezing Kurt's hand as he adjusts the angle of his cap, the grin goes all the way up to his shining eyes as he says, "I love you."

"I love you too,  _boyfriend_ ," Kurt murmurs, and Blaine leans in for one last kiss before he runs to the microphone set up for him, giving the crowd a charming smile. Slipping into the back of the auditorium, Kurt winks when Sam, Tina and Artie all shoot him questioning looks, and pretends not to notice when Sam looks away and immediately looks back in shock.

"My sincere apologies for that delay, ladies and gentlemen, but I'm sure you'll all hear the reason for it on the news tonight," Blaine says, and Kurt peers over the shoulder of the tall boy in front of him to see Santana and Rachel both smiling secretively. An entire row is occupied by the glee club, both past and current, and he aches with the want to run off the stage and hug every single one of them. But he can't detract from Blaine's speech, straightening up and feeling his smile grow with pride. "I can't tell you how much of an honour it is to be valedictorian, when I've only attended this school for two years. But they have been two rollercoaster years." Tina laughs next to Kurt, and he can hear Finn's laugh across the auditorium. "I've made some of the best friends of my life here, and I know I'll be in touch with them for years to come. This school welcomed me with open arms, and I couldn't be happier to have spent my last two years of high school here." Giving the crowd a bashful little smile, he says, "I owe thanks to so many people, but most of all to my boyfriend who I joined here last year, and whose love has been the one constant thing for the last two years."

The audience is making soft noises, cooing, and someone is whooping. Kurt slaps a hand over his mouth to muffle his squeak of joy, and Tina looks at him with eyes bright with tears, and Sam lets out a whoop and tries to get the crowd joining in as Kurt pushes through the red-robed graduates and into Blaine's arms, the microphone letting out a deafening clunking noise when Kurt's elbow crashes against it as he wraps his arms around Blaine's neck, kissing him as the people surrounding them erupt into applause. Someone shouts his name in shock, and there's a wolf-whistle that was probably Puck or Santana, and the kiss goes on for minutes before Sue says, with something akin to affection in her voice, "Okay, Porcelain, that's enough. Please go find your seat and hold yourself back for ten more minutes."

One last kiss, and Kurt releases a blushing and blissfully smiling Blaine, squeezing his hand and acknowledging the applause with a graceful wave of his hand as he steps down off the stage and runs lightly up the steps to his seat next to Santana, who grins at him and shouts, "Just throw money, folks!" to a scream of laughter.

Sue speaks for exactly those promised ten minutes, by which time Kurt is almost squirming in his seat, eager to return to Blaine's arms and show him how much he's missed him, and then finally she steps aside, holding her arm out and saying, "Ladies and gentlemen, the McKinley High graduating class of 2013!" The glee club all go cheering to their feet, and Kurt beams when Blaine blows a kiss to the crowd, catching his eye for a second.

As the lights fade and the crowds filter out, they all come together into various cars, crammed in too tight, and drive to Blaine's empty house for a party. Both Mike and Finn cheer when Puck heaves what seems to be an entire liquor store out of the trunk of Quinn's car, and everyone chips in to help carry it all inside, chattering and laughing and singing snatches of songs. Kurt starts when Blaine's fingers brush his beneath the box they're carrying together, and he precariously balances the box on one knee to stretch over and kiss Blaine. "Don't drop that!" Puck roars indignantly, and they jump back from each other. "I paid good money for that!"

"Oh please, you slept with the girl with the big boobs so she gives you a discount," Santana snorts, cracking the top off a bottle and taking a long swig of it. Blaine laughs and Kurt lets the box drop to kiss the grin right off his lips, sliding his hands inside the gown he's still wearing and letting the tips of his fingers stray into Blaine's back pockets, eliciting a soft groan against his lips.

Everyone ignores them, although a few pause to roll their eyes. It seems to be a mutual agreement, that they won't disturb the reunion that Kurt's been waiting three months for, even though there are people he hasn't even spoken to yet, people who want to be close to him as much as he wants to be alone with Blaine. No one makes a sound when they almost trip over the box they left lying on the ground, and Tina goes so far as to wink when they separate momentarily to get inside without falling. "Do you want to sit singing and reminiscing and making fun of each other, or go upstairs?" Blaine asks, like it's a choice. In answer, Kurt kisses him hard, pushing the red robe off his shoulders and letting it pool on the floor. Blaine kicks it away, and they run up the stairs hand in hand, exchanging kisses every few steps.

Blaine falls onto the bed with a moan, and Kurt is frantic when he kisses him, hearing Blaine's heart beat like a pounding drum echoing in the room. Everything that is good and true and real in the world is squirming beneath him as he unbuttons Blaine's shirt with shaking hands, unzips his pants and pushes them down, frantically kisses the hot skin on his belly and thighs, breathing him in and tipping his face up to admire his swollen pupils in the light and kissing the hollow of his neck until his breathing is more moaning than not. "Bite me," he hisses, and Kurt reels back, the arousal shocked out of him like a bucket of cold water tipped over his head. "Kurt, come  _on_. I'm not scared. Just bite me."

He looks so tempting, golden and quivering and open on the bed, that Kurt almost leans in, wanting to see the contrast crimson blood will make against his sweat-slick skin, wanting the heady scent to fill the room, wanting to hear the noises Blaine makes. But when his instincts are forced down, he can't feel anything but anxiety. Blaine doesn't know, he can't see into Kurt's mind - he can't remember how everything was perfect, heat and desire and the dizziness of too much to drink, hope for the first good night in weeks, up until the pain that tore him into confetti. "I..." He bites his lip and stares down at Blaine, his eyes wide and pleading. "Okay. But not your neck. And if it hurts, you have to tell me. You have to make me stop. Pull me away if you have to."

"I won't have to," Blaine says, looking up at Kurt with eyes brightened with love, hair coming loose of the gel and a flush in his cheeks, smiling up lazily and trailing a hand down Kurt's bare chest, drawing small circles around his hard nipples. "I trust you."

Eyelids fluttering in pleasure as Blaine's scent sends him reeling, all primal desire and musky sweat and sweet blood pumping too-fast through his veins with excitement, Kurt murmurs, "I don't trust myself," and lowers his mouth to Blaine's belly, kissing slowly at the soft skin. Letting his fangs drop, he scrapes the points very gently against Blaine's skin, and jerks back quickly when Blaine's hips buck and he groans. "Don't move, sweetheart. I don't want to hurt you."

Sliding down the bed, Kurt presses a soothing kiss against the inside of Blaine's thigh and waits for him to say something. Change his mind. But Blaine's fingers just reach down and clench into Kurt's hair, pushing his face closer, and he whispers, " _Please_." Breathing in deeply, arousal searing through him at Blaine's scent, so strong between his legs, Kurt bites as gently as he can, feeling the skin break and the blood start to flow. "S-suck," Blaine stammers, his voice weak, and Kurt pulls at the wound, eyes falling shut when Blaine's blood flows into his mouth, sweet and warm. He only sucks for a few seconds, determined not to let the situation go too far, but Blaine is thrashing on the bed, fingers clenching painfully in Kurt's hair, and he begs, "More, more, please. Have as much as you want."

It's an exercise in self-restraint, trying not to take too much and still enough to keep Blaine writhing for him, because it's the hottest thing he's ever seen. But Kurt forces himself to pull away, licking over the wound to seal it and petting Blaine's belly gently until he stops thrashing, panting and staring at the ceiling with wide eyes. "That was amazing," he says softly, and Kurt leans down to kiss him very gently. And then, smirking, he climbs on top of Blaine, tightening his knees around Blaine's hips as Blaine stares up at him with round, shocked eyes.

Kurt's sure that it's the best reunion sex anyone has ever had, as the hard tips of Blaine's fingers bite bruises into his thighs and Blaine's lips trace every single one of his fading scars, finding the beauty in each white slash across his skin. He's warm and soft as sílk, stroking Kurt's sides and shoulders and guiding him down for a kiss, hips rolling as Kurt whimpers into his mouth, edging closer. "You look so beautiful," Blaine whispers, and Kurt moans as he spills, collapsing on top of Blaine with a heavy sigh.

Lying together in the sheets afterwards, listening to the sound of laughter and the rhythm of music downstairs, Kurt traces his fingers delicately down Blaine's face and kisses him. "I can't believe this is real," he whispers, and Blaine pulls him closer as if to illustrate that it is. "For a while I thought I wasn't going to get out. I was so scared that I would never see you again."

"Hope," Blaine says, kissing Kurt's bare shoulder and tracing the hot tip of his tongue along a scar. "It is the only thing stronger than fear."

"Because quoting an evil president who watches kids die for fun while we're naked and post-coital together is so sexy," Kurt sighs, and Blaine hits him with the pillow. Both of them are laughing, rolling around and trying to tickle each other, and then Blaine is hard against Kurt's stomach again and they both get distracted.

By the time they both get downstairs, freshly showered and holding hands, exchanging secretive smiles, Rachel has found a karaoke machine and is loading up as many songs as possible, offering the microphone around the room. There are glasses for everyone sprawling out across the table and floor, and Puck has already taken over the armchair, sitting with his legs slung over one arm and raising his glass in a toast. "Finally, the party wasn't getting started without you two!" he says, slurring his words, and Kurt raises an eyebrow.

"It sounds like the party was doing just fine," he says, and chooses the unoccupied corner of the blanket to collapse onto, bringing Blaine down with him and curling up to him, letting the sound of the talking around him and Blaine's hand on his hip, drawing circles into his skin, lull him into a peaceful sleep.

* * *

Tapping his heel nervously on the floor, Kurt starts when Elliott reaches over to plant a hand on his knee and still his bouncing leg. "Don't be so nervous," he says softly, and Dani smiles at him reassuringly, tucking an electric blue strand of hair behind her ear, making a sour face when it gets caught on her earring. "If you love him, we will too."

Kurt jumps up when the door opens, and kisses Blaine sweetly over the stack of boxes in his arms, helping him set them down and putting a proud arm around his waist as he turns to show him off, giggling at the blush that creeps into Blaine's cheeks. "Blaine, this is Elliott Gilbert and Dani Brighton, who both took me in about four months ago," he says, and Blaine smiles at both of them. "Elliott, Dani, this is Blaine Anderson, my boyfriend."

Dani waves, but Elliott just stares, and jealousy makes Kurt bristle indignantly, squeezing Blaine's waist a little tighter. "Anderson?" he asks, and Blaine nods, brow furrowing in confusion. "As in Kenneth Anderson?"

"He was my great-grandfather," Blaine says, and Elliott's face goes even paler, draining to a green-grey colour, and Dani takes his hand, her squeezing it tightly seeming to shock Elliott out of a trance. "Did you know him?"

"You look just like him," Elliott breathes, and Kurt claps a hand to his mouth, realising what Elliott is talking about. "You might have heard about me, I always hoped I'd be some sort of family legend. We were best friends back in Scotland. And yes, we were lovers."

"I knew it!" Blaine shouts triumphantly, and Kurt laughs at him, reeling him in for a kiss. As soon as they part, Blaine goes to sit beside Elliott, eager to hear the stories of what his great-grandfather was really like.

Kurt leaves for his shift at the diner - a job, incidentally, that he managed to secure in the process of putting his life back together. It was a long, slow, painful process, moving back into the loft and away from Elliott and Dani, endless meetings with NYADA officials to discuss being admitted as a freshman in the autumn semester, talking with Isabelle about keeping his internship, giving statements to the police and avoiding the press who want to find out the story of the man who disappeared for five months. Not to mention the final stages of his legal registration as a vampire - and when he returns Elliott and Dani have both texted to announce that they've left Blaine alone, and Rachel and Santana have left him a message that they're going shopping and won't be back until late.

When he opens the door, the apartment is dark, the lights all off and the room illuminated only by candles, all identical and resting in their silver dishes, throwing shadows long over the walls as Kurt looks around in wonder, unwrapping the lightweight scarf that hides the vivid scar where he was turned. There are vases filled with roses too, and Kurt follows the path that they create, out onto the tiny balcony. It's still barely clinging to the side of the building, but it's sturdy as he steps onto it, Blaine waiting for him and smiling softly. He's managed to cram a small table into the corner, with a plate of cheesecake and two glasses waiting, a bottle of very expensive champagne resting in a small flower pot filled with ice. "What are you doing?" Kurt asks softly, smiling as he hears the music drifting through from the first time, pumping out of the speakers on the counter in the kitchen:  _All You Need Is Love_  playing as Blaine lifts Kurt's hand to his mouth and kisses each knuckle reverently.

"You changed my life the day we met, you know," Blaine says, and Kurt's heart is in his mouth, his breathing becoming uneven and tears rising in his throat. "I took your hand and we ran down that hallway together, and you know me well enough to be sure that I've never made a habit of taking the hands of people I don't know yet." Kurt laughs softly, and Blaine grins, eyes alight with adoration as he leans closer, voice softer than the whisper of wind lifting the city drowning under a layer of heat. "But I think that my soul knew something that my body and mind didn't know yet. It knew that our hands were meant to hold each other's," he lets their palms press together, lifts his free hand to brush a tear from Kurt's cheek, "fearlessly and forever. Which is why it's never really felt like I was getting to know you, it's always felt like I was remembering you from something. As if..." He trails off, and Kurt presses their foreheads together with a soft sob, letting the beauty of the words swirl around him as Blaine swallows and continues, "As if in every lifetime you and I have ever lived, we've chosen to come back and find each other and fall in love all over again, over and over, for all eternity. And I just feel so  _lucky_  that I found you so soon in this lifetime, because all I want to do, all I've ever wanted to do, is spend my life loving you."

Both of them are shaking, and Blaine's eyes are misty with tears as he grips Kurt's left hand in his and lowers himself carefully to one knee, eliciting a broken sob and further tears from Kurt, pulling a small black box from the inside pocket of his blazer and smiling up as he says, "So, Kurt Hummel, my amazing friend, my one true love: will you marry me?"

Dabbing at his streaming eyes with the end of his shirt sleeve, Kurt manages to control his crying for long enough to say, "Yes, of course I will," before he starts crying in earnest. Blaine doesn't put the ring on, but sets the open box on the table and hugs Kurt close, letting him sob into the shoulder of his blazer until he's worn out and the tears start to stop, his breathing still rasping and shuddering every few seconds. "I love you so  _much_."

"I love you too," Blaine says, and pulls out of the hug gently to kiss him on the tear-wet mouth, until both of them are smiling too much to keep their lips connected. "Do you want the ring now?" Kurt nods eagerly, and Blaine pulls the ring out of the box, taking Kurt's hand to slide it onto his finger. "It's white-gold. I wasn't sure if silver would affect you."

"Sweetie, that's werewolves," Kurt says softly, and Blaine just smiles and shrugs, both of them admiring the ring on Kurt's finger. "It's beautiful. How could you afford this?"

"When I told my parents I wanted to propose, they gave me this," Blaine says, tracing the tip of his finger along the band of the ring. "It was the ring my great-grandmother gave my great-grandfather. He moved here after the war with the last of his money, and tried to rob a jewellery store. Maggie was the owner's daughter and thought he was cute, so she offered not to tell her dad in exchange for a date. When they decided to get married, her dad gave them this ring as a wedding gift, and it's been in my family ever since. They were together for almost sixty years." He kisses Kurt's shoulder through his shirt, and says, "Now we'll be together for years longer than that."

It's the first thing that jars with Kurt, and he turns to look at Blaine. "What do you mean?"

"Well, I want you to turn me," Blaine says, and Kurt reels back in shock. "Don't look at me like that, Kurt, I've thought it all over. I want to be with you forever and never run out the clock. I'm prepared to make sacrifices. This is what I  _want_."

The words are sharp in Kurt's throat, like shards of glass, begging to be said:  _It's so far from what I want that it's ridiculous_. Of course he doesn't want to bite Blaine with any purpose, although they occasionally indulge in biting during sex because Blaine loves it so much. He hates this life he's been forced into, hates being bound to the darkness, and he wouldn't subject Blaine to that. Blaine is bright and blazing and full of light and goodness, and he doesn't deserve to have a life that lasts until the last star in the universe burns out. Clearing his throat, he gently says, "Sweetie, that's something I really need to think about. Can we talk about it another time?"

Blaine looks at him with a slight desperation behind his eyes, squeezing his hands. "But Kurt-"

"Can we come in now?!" Santana's bellow breaks the perfect moment, and Kurt turns away from Blaine. "I'm starving and these bags are heavy and I want some champagne! I want to be a classy drunk!"

Lying in bed after the celebration is over, next to a sticky, sweaty Blaine, Kurt stares at the ceiling, feeling the five fingers placed over his still heart like flames brushing against his skin. Blaine is so alive, warm and soft and snuffling against him, and he can't take that away. He loves it, loves feeling Blaine's heart fluttering beneath his palms, loves the flush in his cheeks when Kurt says something particularly sweet or dirty, loves the way his skin gleams with a sheen of sweat when they're making love, how breathless he gets and the way he gets as hot as a furnace. Blaine's humanity is everything about him that Kurt falls in love with all over again every morning, and he wants Blaine to stay that way.

His phone buzzes in the darkness, and he clings to Blaine's hand - Blaine has gotten into the habit of waking up if Kurt leaves the bed at night, or so much as rolls away from him - as he reaches over to get it, the glare of the screen painful in the dark. It's an email from Dani, and when he opens it he sits up straight, hope filling his belly.  **SUBJECT: YOU'RE ONLY SIX MONTHS, RIGHT? MAKES YOU JUST ELIGIBLE. THOUGHT YOU MIGHT BE INTERESTED.**

_Dear Ms. Brighton,_

_My name is Doctor Calvin Tremayne, and I am writing to inform you of something which might be of interest to those who attend your group for those who are unhappy in their turned state. After years of work, my colleagues - Doctor Eleanor Oakfield and Doctor Oliver Whyte - and I have found a way to cure vampires who have already passed through the transformation process, and we are seeking volunteers who have been in their turned state for six months or less to come to our offices this Sunday and be a part of our experiments. They will of course be generously paid for their help, and will be insured and perfectly safe. These experiments have been completed in a laboratory environment without accident, but now we would like to test out theories. We would like to see a minimum of two volunteers, preferably of different ages. Thank you for any help you can offer us._

_Kindest regards,_

_Dr. Calvin Tremayne_.

**To: Dani**

**Thank you. Really. More than I can say.**

**From: Dani**

**You're welcome. One day they'll be able to cure me too. Cure all of us. But for now, you can be one of the lucky ones.**

* * *

Calvin Tremayne has close-cropped dark hair and a reassuring smile, eyes very blue against his dark skin, and Kurt feels reassured by his voice alone, even though Blaine is shaking and clutching his hand far tighter than really necessary. "Our experiments have been tweaked to perfect over the last four years, and we're sure that this final phase will turn you human again," he says, and Kurt beams at him, the very idea of being human again filling him with joy. "Of course, you're fully insured and we will pay all damages should anything happen. You will also be paid one thousand dollars for your time, which I know doesn't go far in this city these days." He smiles, and Kurt nods. "If you'll follow me, Mr. Hummel, Dr. Oakfield will be able to talk you through the process."

With Blaine maintaining his death grip on Kurt's hand, crushing his fingers painfully together, Kurt follows the man through the winding corridors of the hospital to a room walled with glass, where two more doctors in their white coats are standing. Eleanor Oakfield turns out to be a short blonde woman with a sweetly musical voice, who helps Kurt into a hospital gown as she explains, "We use the same electric shocks which are used to restart people's hearts on you, though at a greater voltage as your heart has been technically dead for six months. As well as this, we will use an antidote to force the venom out of your body and get your human blood pumping again. It revitalises the cells and the mind, and you will become human again. We will have to pull the fangs, but you will be under a very strong anaesthetic and we'll send you away with the necessary painkillers."

Oliver Whyte, a redhead with freckles scattered like stars over his pink-cheeked face, looks Kurt up and down and says, "I'm afraid you'll have to take the ring off. Metal and electric shocks don't mix."

Letting out a small, anxious sob, Blaine pulls the ring gently off Kurt's finger, and Kurt kisses him, fingers meshing into his heavily-gelled hair. "I'll be fine," he promises, but it's clear that Blaine doesn't believe him. "This is my decision, sweetie. This is what I want." Turning to the three doctors, he nods and says, "I'm ready."

"I love you!" Blaine calls out as the three guide Kurt into the room, helping him onto the table where he'll lie and fitting the electrodes around his head and over his chest. There are dozens of wires and they're all talking to each other in what might as well be a foreign language for how much of it Kurt understands. He raises his head and mouths  _I love you too_  to Blaine through the glass, seeing the tears glittering on his fiancé's cheeks and swallowing back his own.

"Are you ready?" Dr, Oakfield asks, and Kurt nods, even though he's shaking violently and would be breaking out in a cold sweat if he could, and his instincts are screaming at him to stop. "Okay. We have to put the electric shocks through you first, and I'm sorry but it's going to hurt."

Even that warning doesn't prepare Kurt for the all-consuming agony that rips through him as soon as the switch is flipped. It feels like he's being torn apart, and he can hear himself screaming but can't stop it. Blaine is screaming too, slamming his hands against the barrier between them and crying, but Kurt can't even reach out for him, lost to all reality except the pain that vibrates through his joints and muscles, his head splitting and his entire being screaming to be released, screaming for the pain to stop. His chest feels heavy, like there's a weight pressing on top of him, and when the voices around him start to melt into one his eyes roll back in his head and the world goes black.

It feels like minutes later that he opens his eyes again, but he knows it's been hours because it's dark outside the window above his head, and he's lying in bed instead of on hard solid plastic, the mattress soft and yielding beneath his heavy body. Every inch of him aches, and when he tries to sit up twinges of agony run up and down his arms and legs, and a hand on his chest pushes him back down. "You're awake," comes a soft, familiar voice, and there's a cup of water being moved towards him, the rim of the cup pressed against his dry, blistered lips, and he gulps gratefully, the cold soothing some of the fiery agony that licks through him.

It hits him a moment later, and he turns his head slowly to look at Blaine, who looks grey with exhaustion and worry, eyes red-rimmed and swollen, but is smiling at him. "It worked," he says, and Blaine nods. "Oh my God, it worked!" Reaching a hand into Blaine's pocket, he yanks out Blaine's phone and holds it up. He can see himself reflected back, his skin a sickly green and his eyes surrounded by the black evidence of sleepless nights. Letting the phone drop to the mattress, he puts a hand to his heart and laughs giddily when he feels it beating. "I'm human again!"

"If that experiment hadn't worked, I would've sued them for every penny they have after what they put you through," Blaine says, and there are tears in his eyes, his words growing harsh with emotion. "God, Kurt, the second they turned the electricity on you started making this awful sound, and I couldn't get to you, watching you in pain without being able to do anything is the worst thing I've ever been through. And then when that was over you woke up, although you probably don't remember it, but when they tried to inject a tranquilizer you started screaming when you saw the needle and wouldn't let them, and they had to strap you down and pump it straight into your heart, and you were sobbing and I couldn't do anything but watch you suffering. I thought you were dying, Kurt, they pulled out your fangs and there was so much blood and even with the anaesthetic you just kept yelling, and when they injected the antidote to vampire venom you were throwing up blood, and they said it was just your body rejecting all the bad blood that's been going around for months but I couldn't believe them, and when you finally stopped you were so pale, and you just lay there for a long time while they all moved around. And they said you just needed to sleep and heal, and it had worked."

"I'm really sorry you had to go through that," Kurt says softly, and Blaine kisses his temple fiercely. "God,  _everything_  hurts, Blaine. Don't ever let me volunteer for medical experiments again." Shaking his head hard, Blaine reaches for Kurt's hand and slides his engagement ring back onto his finger, kissing the back of his hand and all the way up his arm, even his shoulder through the scratchy hospital gown and the raised white scar on the side of his neck, to his mouth, Kurt revelling in the way his heart starts to pound and heat creeps up his neck.

"Why do it?" Blaine asks, and Kurt looks away from him, unwilling to share the answer. "Kurt, please tell me the truth. You knew that they'd be taking you from technically dead to alive, they told you it would hurt, and you still didn't back out. You weren't just doing that for a thousand dollars in our savings."

Breathing in hard, Kurt clasps Blaine's hand in his and says, "I guess you asking for me to turn you scared me. I hated being a vampire, I never wanted it and I never asked for it. Maybe I was fascinated with the culture and I wanted to see a minority getting greater rights, but I didn't want to become a part of that crusade by experiencing the hate and the discrimination first hand. You know people threw things at me while I was working? Even in a place like New York, I was seen as wrong."

"But you can face down bullies, you're so strong," Blaine says, and Kurt sighs. As much as Blaine loves and knows him, he doesn't seem to understand this. "I don't get it, Kurt. We could've been us forever, you and me. You were invincible, you were never going to die. I don't understand why you would voluntarily give that up."

"I'm not afraid of death, Blaine," Kurt says, and Blaine looks at him with a fear in his eyes. "I don't want to die. Not yet, I've got so much living left to do. But when my time comes, I won't be scared. I've faced death down too many times for it to really worry me anymore, and dying would mean getting to see my mom again." Meeting Blaine's eyes and twisting his engagement ring anxiously around his finger, he says, "When you proposed to me, you said that you believed we'd fallen in love in past lives, and we would continue to do it for the rest of time. Call me crazy, but I don't want this us to be the last version. We're not the final copies, we're just another pair of people born into the world at the same time who were destined to be soulmates. I don't need to be with you forever to prove that." Tilting their foreheads together and lowering his voice until it's barely above a whisper, he says, "I only want one lifetime, and I want to spend all of it with you."

" _Kurt_ ," Blaine breathes out, eyes filled with tears. "I think that's the most romantic thing I've ever heard." Kurt smiles, preening a little, and leans into the kiss Blaine presses to his lips, salty with tears and warm and sweet. "I love you so much," Blaine whispers, sliding from his chair into the bed, probably ignoring the doctors' orders.

"I love you too," Kurt says, and tugs Blaine on top of him as they sink into a deeper kiss, ignoring the twinges of pain. Maybe he can't find the answer to erasing his traumatic memories by finding a way to have his heart beating again. Maybe he'll see someone who bears a vague resemblance to the man he watched die and feel his breath shorten, the tears rise, and have to duck into the shadows to pull himself together. Maybe he'll still wake up at night screaming, reaching out for someone in the darkness.

But the difference is, now, someone will be reaching back.

**END**


End file.
